


Chiasma

by tb_ll57



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, M/M, post - endless waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 122,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tb_ll57/pseuds/tb_ll57
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Still in prison. Still in exile. Still in danger, instead of in chains.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

'The fucker shanked me,' Duo repeated. His voice was higher in outrage. Disbelief. He had his shirt hiked high so he wouldn't bleed on it, his hand clamped to his gut. It afforded Wufei an excellent view of three things. Duo was, in fact, bleeding profusely. He had a tattoo of barbed wire and sun rays surrounding his navel. He also had, at least on the left side where his chin pinned the hem of his shirt high, a small brown nipple gone hard from exposure to the air and to shock.

'Let me see,' Wufei said gruffly, manfully ignoring everything but the bleeding. Duo fought him, for no good reason he could see. The alley had cleared as soon as Wufei came running with a drawn weapon. The drug deal they'd interrupted had vanished on a breath.

It was a puncture wound, wide enough to admit the tip of his finger when he pressed. It had to be deep; Duo's face was white, and he left a thick smear on the pre-fab wall of the abandoned rowhouse he leant against, wiping his hand. 'I'm taking you to the hospital,' Wufei decided. 'I can't deal with this alone.'

'Lonny,' Duo interrupted. 'On 84th and Hollander.'

'Hardly!'

'We're on fucking L2. The only people who go to the hospitals are Feds and cops, and I think we'd both rather not get made quite so early on our trip.'

It would have been a salient point, if not for the fact that Duo was visibly weakening. They had nothing more with them than the clothes on their backs-- everything else was in their hotel, on the other side of the colony. Duo's fault, of course. Duo had said don't bring this, don't bring that, citing the tired litany that he alone knew the environment on L2. Wufei had always conceded that point. But this, as Duo would have said in his position, was bullshit.

He replaced Duo's hand with his wadded handkerchief and secured it with his own belt. 'I presume Lonny is some back-room butcher?' He cinched the buckle tight. 'I think we'd both rather you not die so early on the trip.'

'I'm losing a lot of blood here,' Duo said, 'so you go ahead and argue for both of us for a while, and when you're done with that take me to Lonny.'

'I should have turned this mission down,' Wufei growled. He pulled Duo's arm over his shoulder and lifted most of his weight. 'Which way is 84th?'

It took them nearly as long as it would have to reach the hospital. There were no cabs or buses, not this part of the colony. The few vehicles he did see were abandoned husks, occupied by glaring homeless who clutched their tatty coats close as if to ward them off. The gang they'd stumbled on were no-where to be seen, though. The streets were eerily quiet, the buildings sinister. They were apartments, standard colony housing in what had probably been the old Industrial sector, but they had never looked like this on L5, where even the poorest worker had been allotted precious garden space in the courtyards, a fountain with running water. On L2, the windows were small and dark, as cagey as their residents. Everything seemed to hunch away from too much staring. It all went on forever, off into the blue haze of the toroidal horizon curve.

Duo's feet were dragging. Wufei held him up, but they were of an equal height and the weight was starting to slow him down. Just when he would have stopped to rest a moment, though, Duo pointed to the bent, graftitied street sign. They'd reached 79th. The apartments gave way to laundries, small restaurants, little groceries. The street lamps worked, for the most part; the pavement was much repaired with tar, but it was smooth enough. It was as well that it was late, however; the storefronts were all dimmed, caged behind bars or locked behind screens. 84th didn't look promising, but Duo directed him, murmured at him until they came to a halt. It was a Pakistani store, signs in scrawling Urdu and Arabic advertising food, religious items, medicine.

'Oh, hell no,' Wufei said.

'Shut up, Chang,' Duo retorted. His voice frayed, just enough, that Wufei regretted it.

Only until Lonny answered his knocking. He was a tall, hulking man, thickly bearded, so mixed it was impossible to tell his origins. And he was filthy. Filthy.

Wufei promptly forgot to be either polite or circumspect, and said, 'You're going to wash your hands before you get near him.'

Lonny's fat hand was edging toward the back of his sagging trousers. 'You cops?' he demanded aggressively. His beady eyes raked Wufei, and flicked to Duo. Abruptly, his hand dropped. 'Back room,' he said shortly.

Wufei didn't stay on the pavement to wonder. Duo's breathing was ragged and shallow on his neck. Lonny didn't hold the door for him, but stumped off into the dark aisles. Wufei shoved an elbow at the glass as it crashed on them. He stumbled on something, too, just inside the door. It skittered away from his foot. He resolved not to look. The aisles were close and overstocked, and they ricocheted off boxes and tins he couldn't even see. The sudden light of a second doorway almost blinded him. It was a slender opening, only big enough for one of them at the time. He angled Duo through first, and found himself in a small kitchen. A small filthy kitchen. Mould stained the deep plastic sinks, dirty water dripped through cracks in the walls. The smell of sour milk was overwhelming.

'No,' Wufei began again.

'I need to sit,' Duo wheezed. Wufei eyed the cockroach making tentative progress over the tiles. He risked his own shaky thigh muscles and swept Duo off his feet instead. Duo's gut pressed wetly against his chest.

Lonny rummaged in a crate. He emerged with a stretch-neck lamp, two grimy towels, and a box of scalpels and clamps.

'Do you have anaesthesia? Disinfectant?' Wufei asked, the last protest in a failing rebellion. The bushy beard seemed to waggle at him for a moment, but it was too dark to read Lonny's expression.

'Clear table,' Lonny grunted.

He couldn't, not without putting Duo down. He compromised, saving his aching arms a little, by resting Duo's bum onto the edge of the large butcher block island. The wood felt greasy. He shoved a bowl of rotting cabbage to the floor, a cleaver after it. He cushioned Duo the rest of the way down. He didn't quite remember to protect the braid in time to stop it from resting on the wood, and there was no-where to put anyway, aside from holding it up, which would have been ridiculous. He still had to stop himself halfway to doing it.

'Stay away,' Lonny told him then, and bent over Duo. 'What weapon?'

'Stiletto,' Duo said. 'Maybe a sharpened spoon. It didn't look right.' Lonny unbuckled the belt. The soaked kerchief fell to the table. Lonny wiped at the ooze over Duo's wound.

It was Wufei who felt frayed, then. He had never been one overly concerned with rules and regulations, but this was well beyond the pale. One agent down and with his own judgment obviously clouded, he should have aborted an hour ago. He would take Duo back to their hotel, he would contact Command, and they would get off this-- vermin-infested-- it certainly explained a lot about Duo, there was that to be said.

'I didn't see what happened.' His arms ached. His legs ached. Duo was heavier than he looked. Wufei rubbed his biceps. 'What the hell were you doing that made them attack you?'

'Standing,' Duo snapped. 'Fucker ran right up. Never saw him coming.'

He didn't believe that for an instant. Duo was irresponsible, foul-mouthed, and arrogant, but Wufei had never denied his skills.

Lonny cut before either of them were ready. Duo jumped and went rigid; Wufei grabbed a thick wrist and held it hard. 'How do you know what to do?' he demanded. 'You have no equipment. It could be his liver, the bowel, the abdominal aorta--'

'He walked here, din he? He can breef, can he?' Lonny freed himself with an easy twist. 'Gotta drain it.'

'He's been bleeding for--'

Lonny pushed a thick tube into Duo's wound. There was sweat on Duo's face now, his eyes were closed. Lonny bent and sucked at the end of the tube. He spat red and a thin yellowish water to the side, and did it again, and again. The fourth time, there was barely any liquid, and he wiped his mouth. Wufei could barely watch, repulsed by the primitiveness. 'He talking, walking, looking round. Bleeding slow now. You got pain when I press here, boy?' His broad palm went flat and then his heel dug into Duo's abdomen. Duo shook his head.

Wufei shifted to his other foot. 'He can't-- isn't a good judge.'

'No fever, pulse fine. He live fine.' Lonny dug in his little box, and this time produced a J-shaped needle and suture. He went deep in the wound and tied the tissue layers closed, first, before he made a final neat knot on Duo's surface skin. It wasn't fancy, but it was done with confidence. Wufei's medical knowledge was even more basic. He would be the last to know if it was well done or not. He took uneasy comfort in the fact that, as Lonny insisted, Duo hardly seemed near death.

Duo seemed to know Wufei was examining him. One eye opened, just a little. He said, 'Don't report this.'

'I'm not that insane.' They would both be in trouble. It would be bad enough without the finer details.

Lonny finished with a satisfied grumble in his own dialect, whatever that might have been. 'Sponge in sink,' Wufei was told. 'You plan on walking out here widout notice, you clean him up."

'I'll take care of him. It.' Duo rubbed his eyes. 'Where did you receive your training?' Wufei pressed the big man. 'What do we owe you?'

The scathing look Lonny cast him expressed grave doubts about Wufei's native intelligence. Wufei flushed. Perhaps it had been foolish. But there was no verbal reprimand. Lonny washed his hands at last, for all it was worth, and rinsed his mouth as well. Wufei found the sponge. He waited his turn to wring it under the water. When he looked up, Lonny was gone.

Duo opened both eyes, this time, when Wufei washed him. 'Wasn't so bad,' he said.

'Shut up. I'm angry with you.'

'You angry at me?'

He was. He swiped at the sticky blood on Duo's belly carefully, especially near the sutures, but he was not tender at it. Duo had not earned it with this kind of behaviour. 'Very,' he clarified. 'What in hell were you thinking?'

'When are you going to believe I know my way around my own colony?'

'When you stop breaking yourself.'

'I didn't fall on the knife.'

'And you weren't just standing there when this person ran up on you, either.'

Duo let out a slow breath. 'It was a kid.'

Meaning, he wasn't going to shoot at a child. Wufei was not impressed. 'That's no proof against anything,' he said. 'That kid may well have killed you.'

'I get the picture.'

'No, I don't think you do.' He dried Duo with the edge of Duo's shirt, since it was probably ruined anyway, but buttoned Duo's coat over it and made sure it would hide the mess. He rubbed his wet fingers over each other, until the worry left them. He did not look to Duo's eyes, watching for his. He asked, 'How's the implant working?'

Duo sat up slowly. 'God,' he said, 'shut _up_ , Chang.'

'We're going to abort,' Wufei ordered. 'No arguing. I'm getting you out of this--' No words occurred to him that wouldn't start the argument he wanted to avoid. 'Tonight.'

'Why?' Duo asked, as if the answer were eminently obvious. He swung his legs off the island edge. 'Because of this little scratch?'

'Batsu.' That was a word Duo was used to hearing from him, though Wufei had so far refused to translate it. It was, at any rate, Wufei who gave in, once more. 'Can you walk?'

'I've got about ten yards in me. Find a motel.'

Unpleasant news. Likely to be extremely unpleasant accommodations, if Duo couldn't get out of the sector. He wondered if a taxi could be coaxed out here.

'Are we going to fight again?'

'Stop being contrary.' He ignored Duo's protests and pulled him off his feet again. His body wasn't happy about it, but he would have died before he admitted it. Duo's face had gone tight and lined. 'Pretend you're drunk,' Wufei told him, and headed for the door. 'It oughtn't be hard.'

'Put me the fuck down. Men don't carry other men here.'

'No one will mistake you for a man. Stop struggling. If you pull your stitches, I'm taking you to hospital, and you can have the joy of explaining this in debriefing.'

'You were funner when you were a insurgent.'

'You forget who's holding your reins, Maxwell!'

He regretted that for a long time.

 

**

 

The motel he found was called the OK Corral. Given the real bullet holes the plaster sported, it didn't seem like an ironic nomenclature. They offered an hourly rate and didn't ask why he was holding a limp body.

The bed was large enough for them both. There was nothing else to recommend it. The duvet was stained, the mattress lumpy, and there were fleas. He stripped the sheets and bundled them into a corner. Duo lay where Wufei put him, asleep instantly, a hand lightly cupped to his wound. Wufei took rather longer than it required to wash their clothes. The stain didn't quite come out of Duo's shirt, but the hole the stiletto had left was reasonably small.

It was hours before Duo woke-- almost sunrise, colony time. Antemeridian, that was. He'd been out of Space too long.

Unlike Duo. Who woke at precisely oh-six-hundred, when the first solar floods turned on to light the colony once again.

Duo blinked at him, sitting by the window where he could watch the street. 'Are we home?' he said.

Wufei wet his lips. 'Not yet,' he answered. 'You'll remember when you wake up more.'

'Oh.' Duo shifted, as if to test he could, and turned slowly on his side. 'This place is a shithole, even for L2.'

'I suppose you've plenty to compare it with.'

'I've been thinking.'

'The smoke alarm didn't go off.'

'You know, I'm nice to you. I only point it out because in some societies the exchange of niceness constitutes friendship, which it would be nice if we had.'

Wufei stared hard at the cigarette burns in the curtains. 'I apologise,' he said stiffly. 'It's been a trying twenty-six hours.'

'Apology accepted.' Duo explored his sutures with careful fingers. 'I've been thinking,' he repeated, subdued now. 'About why those kids were where they were.'

'They were a gang. They were there because gangs don't usually meet in the youth centres.'

'They were white.'

Wufei finally faced him. 'And? A third of the colony is white.'

'Not this quad, though. The 84s might venture over the edge for a turf war, but that was deep in Lambeth Nines territory.'

'You think it's connected to the larger picture?'

'I think I want to dig around on it a little.' Duo propped his head on his arm, his eyes a little low of quite meeting Wufei's. 'If you think we can spare the time.'

'It's up to you.' He stood. They'd had their rest, and whatever they planned to do next first they needed to get back to their own hotel and their own clean clothes and official kit. He pulled their dry shirts from the curtain rod in the shower. Nearly dry, anyway. The cotton sat damply against his bare chest. He helped Duo into his tee, without asking whether help was necessary. It gave him opportunity to check Duo's wound. It was inflamed, but not badly; it didn't look infected. Duo's cheek and forehead were cool.

'You could get away with that when we were dating,' Duo said, and turned his face away. 'Now you need an admission ticket.'

He blushed. He cursed that Duo could still make him do so. 'We never dated.'

'Excuse me for putting a gloss on it. The bed makes you nostalgic?'

'There is a time and a place, and this is manifestly neither.' He retreated, the only wise action when engaging Maxwell. 'You can walk?' he said brusquely. 'I want to get moving. The rails will be open by the time we get there.'

'I can walk.' Duo proved it, coming to his feet. 'You didn't exactly give me permission.'

'For what?'

'I want to follow up on the gang thing. Nose around.'

'I said it was up to you.'

'You're team leader.'

'This isn't a team.' He removed the table he'd moved in front of their door, setting it back on all four feet and shoving it into the corner it had occupied prior to their residence. 'Where do you plan to go for information?'

'People I know.'

'People like Lonny.'

'This is my place, Wufei. There's things here I have to do. That I'm uniquely qualified to do, and fuck you, Preventers agreed or I'd be--'

Still in prison. Still in exile. Still in danger, instead of in chains.

Wufei opened the door. There were already crowds on the streets, eager to get the most out of L2's overly-bright daylight. Street walkers, in tall heels and short skirts, young men Wufei couldn't distinguish from the ones who'd attacked Duo the previous night, dressed in dirty denims and puffy, oversized coats hiding any number of illegal items. Amongst all that there were the people who were just trying to live their lives-- shopkeepers, women walking children to school, old grandfathers too far from politics to have the advantage of the public services available uptown. And every human face here wore the same blank expression, cold in the eyes, mouth tightly shut. Duo was the only man on L2 who smiled.

Not that he had, since they'd boarded the shuttle here ninety hours ago.

'Maybe,' Wufei said, buttoning his jacket closed and wrapping his scarf tight, 'maybe if you let me in, I could help you do those things.'

'You don't understand them.' Duo walked beside him, close as friends would have, but his shoulders were tight, his walk light on the heels, alert to the possibility of quick flight. His hand hovered near his hip holster as if it were the most natural thing. 'Look how antsy you were over Lonny.'

'Lonny was disgusting.'

'He's a venn.'

'A what?'

'Venn. Like the diagram? We lap.'

'Could you translate that for me?'

'Venn diagrams. Sets? When things overlap. People. We all have our own sets and sometimes they meet up. Lonny was at the church before I was.'

The church. One day Duo would explain that. Not today. 'So you trust him,' Wufei reasoned. He felt in his pocket, when a young boy begged him for change. He caught Duo's slight shake, though, and awkwardly looked away instead of handing out the coins he carried. The boy cussed at their backs, half-hearted until the next mark came in range. 'Even when you can't trust me.'

'I do trust you. You just talk out your ass sometimes.'

'And you don't talk at all. Where do you want to go? To whom do you want to speak? Can you do it openly, will you need a badge, am I allowed to be your companion or will you leave me at the door to wonder? Or perhaps you'll just run away. Afer all, this is your place, isn't it? Never mind that they know how to find you now. Never mind that I'd come after you again.' Duo was in stony silence now. Wufei breathed through his frustration, and wished he could be as silent. 'What is so damned important that it calls you here again and again?'

Duo glanced at him, finally. He pointed to a store just opening. 'I'm hungry. You hungry? Fruit's in season now.'

'No answer, Duo? Nothing?'

Duo halted, right in the middle of the pavement. Traffic split to flow around them.

He said, 'L2 is my venn, Wufei. Maybe I'll always come. I don't know. I haven't found a way to say “no” yet.'

'You had better learn,' Wufei told him grimly.

'Guess so,' Duo agreed, no less sober.


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Then Duo sighed, and put an arm about his shoulders. He stiffened, but Duo ignored his reaction, and went on walking, so Wufei went on walking, too, only a little off pace before Duo matched his steps and their feet landed the pavement in time._

Uptown L2 might as well have been another colony from downtown. Sleek architecture and the marble art gracing North Square could have been-- were, if Wufei remembered correctly-- dropped out of the ether from L1.

Duo stuck out like a sore thumb, here.

One of the worst things about this kind of mission was that there was no-one to talk to. Duo was his partner only in the basest form of the word. He knew Duo would answer him honestly if he wanted to talk about logistics or statistics. But it wasn't the same thing as someone responsive and invested and involved, someone-- trusted. He knew he felt the lack more severely because Duo had once been his friend. Even, if he was honest, a little more. If not to the extent of dating, which he'd never done in his life and never intended to, and Duo hadn't intended it, either, if memory held true.

Maybe it didn't. It was quite possible he'd seen what he wanted to see, and remembered only the things that didn't embarrass or shame. Like the origins of colonial war memorials, and not the way Duo bounced a little on the left leg without even knowing he did it.

They slept a little more at their hotel, Wufei out of need and Duo because Duo slept whenever five minutes could be strung together. When he woke just after noon, Duo was still at it, fingers twitching as he dreamt. He showered and sat in his towel to watch the news. All of it was innocuous. The economy was bad-- the economy was always bad. A councilman had been caught having an affair with her intern. Lord Berkley was still in the headlines after his death last Friday. They'd come out calling it a stroke, finally. The family doctor, a solemn bearded Spaniard, gave the news as the translation crawled the screen beneath him.

'That's the third out of Parliament this month,' Duo said.

Wufei glanced at the other bed. Duo lay with sleepy eyes, the blues and greens of the television casting soft shadows on his face.

'I think you're right.' He faced forward again. 'Su-Tu had the heart attack, Gethin was in that car accident. Who was the--'

'Martynov. Stabbed by his thirteen-year-old hooker. That's my personal favourite.'

'And now Berkley.' The sheets whispered as Duo shifted. Wufei tightened the tie of his towel at his waist. 'Right before the big vote, too.'

'That's right.' They were turning over the serious news to a cooking segment. Wufei turned off the television. 'You should shower. You should bathe, actually, with that wound.'

'I don't want to want to be too clean here.' Duo rubbed his eyes on his pillowcase. 'Is my Rescue still in the fridge?'

He rose without being asked to fetch it, and passed the chilled can of protein drink between their fingers. Duo sat up to sip it, his head tilting back to catch the last drops. When he was done, he gave the can back. Wufei took it before it occurred to him he didn't have to.

'Are you hungry?' he asked, suddenly awkward. He sought refuge in his usual sarcasm. 'Or would you rather starve a little before you go out amongst the brethren?'

'I find it fosters a sense of brotherhood.' Duo stared away from him. 'Look, take your shots. Fine. But you'd speak Chinese if you went back to your own colony. I'm speaking their language, too.'

'I'd speak Wu, not _Chinese_.'

'What the fuck ever, Wufei.'

His instinct was to let fly the anger that was readily available in his throat and on his tongue. He held himself back with an effort. He pushed at Duo's legs, sat when they moved for him. Duo's knee was bony and warm under his palm.

'You know I didn't volunteer for this,' he said quietly.

'Yeah, they forced you into it.' Duo's eyes met his, blank walls that admitted no feeling past, and no feeling in. 'That must really suck for you, people making you do what you don't want to.'

'What did you think would happen to you? You broke the law.'

'Whose law?'

'The law backed up by the people with enough weaponry to hunt you down.'

'Yeah, them. So the rule of law is really the rule of the people who are strongest and angriest.'

He was the one to look away, this time. But now, strangely, he didn't feel so furious. Duo was right, in his way. At least, Wufei could understand how he thought like that, felt like that. He had himself, once. They weren't so different. They couldn't be so different, and both have done what they'd done, fought the wars they'd fought. But Duo was still fighting, and Wufei had chosen to become part of something to be protected.

'Change your clothes, then,' he said, and stood to bin the can. 'I think the brotherhood will forgive you a clean shirt.'

 

**

 

Duo’s plan for contacting his ‘venns’ seemed to involve a lot of walking.

‘Being seen,’ Duo corrected. ‘Better this way. They’ll come to us.’

‘They who?’ He didn’t mind the exercise, but he was wary still of Duo’s injury. The slight hitch in his step. ‘I’m not asking for names, but—‘

‘Names are pretty arbitrary here anyway.’ Said the man with a name that didn’t mean anything to anyone but him. They were back in last night’s sector, strolling past the very street where Duo had acquired the hole in his belly. A streak of Duo’s blood had dried black on the wall of an abandoned apartment complex.

Not abandoned. Eyes peering at them, unblinking, through black-hole windows.

‘How long will we be at this?’ Wufei asked, when they’d spent an hour pacing the block.

‘We can leave if you want.’

‘I just asked, Duo. It wasn’t a complaint.’

‘I don’t know,’ was the vague reply. ‘There might not be anything to see. It was just a hunch.’

Wufei was on the verge of voicing the opinion that Duo didn’t have hunches any more than he had fashion sense, but he was abruptly proved correct anyway. The figure of what might generously be called a street urchin now stood at the head of an alley, and was unmistakably staring straight at them.

‘Do you make a signal of some kind?’ Wufei murmured. The child’s gaze disturbed him a little.

‘No. He’s doing that.’ Wufei saw nothing of the sort, but Duo nodded to the child. It promptly disappeared. ‘South 62 and St Mary’s,’ Duo said then. ‘We could wait on it, but whatever’s happening will be happening now, not later.’

He was still unused to Duo’s deference. It never sounded quite on. ‘If you think it worth the while,’ he gave his judgment. ‘We can spare the time.’

‘Did you notice it?’

‘Notice what?’

‘The kid.’

‘What about—‘ But the dirt-smudged face he had automatically memorized appeared again before his eyes, and he did see it, then. ‘He was black. You said the ones last night were white. They can’t be part of the same gang.’

‘They’re not. That one was LC Brights. He had an armband over the coat.’

‘From—‘ It didn’t come natively to him, the way it did Duo, but he had studied the demographic maps in his mission prep kit. ‘From B Quad.’

‘Fracsun Sec.’

‘That’s hours away by tram or car. They’re too far out of their territory to be safe here. Why risk it?’ He searched Duo’s face for clues, and received none. ‘You have no ideas?’

Duo didn’t lie, but he didn’t quite tell the truth, either. ‘Some people I want to talk to,’ was all he answered. ‘But for now, I think it might behoove us to see what they want us to see.’

‘No ideas about that either?’

‘You were always on me to be more cautious. I’m being more cautious.’

‘After getting yourself stabbed?’ He bit his lips together for patience. ‘Whatever it is, will it wait for a twenty-block walk?’

‘We could maybe find a cab closer to 70.’

They had walked no more than a single block before Wufei brought himself to a decision. He said, ‘I don’t care if the theory is half-baked. I don’t want to be blind.’

‘You don’t trust me.’

‘You give me no reason to.’

‘Trust your hardwiring,’ Duo retorted, with just the barest hint of the bitterness Wufei suggested truly lay beneath. Justly earned.

Just enough that he might have let it go, to keep their fragile peace, but unexpectedly Duo reached out to him. Literally reached, his fingertips coming to rest over Wufei’s wrist, and reached across the greater gulf that had lain between them this past week. Duo said, ‘Let me put it to you this way. There’s only once in my lifetime and the lifetime of anyone I ever knew when the gangs worked together.’

‘The war?’

‘No-one here cared about the war. But they did care about who came on colony making demands, hoarding supplies, carrying the big guns.’

‘The Federation,’ he guessed, slow to let the word drip from his lips. Like Duo, he had his own dark memories; uniformed, frowning, sneering soldiers who had, yes, carried loaded weapons in their arms, as if any and every colonist was a threat. And they’d been quick to fire, too. He’d lost a cousin, Pe-Ling, only a school girl, but unwise enough to gather with her fellows to shout at the invaders across the new wire fencing at the occupied embassy. Dead of a bullet in her chest, her black eyes cloudy. She’d been the first young girl he’d seen dead, before his wife. Sometimes he thought it had been forewarning, a shadow-image. Sometimes he thought it was silliness, to believe it was anything other than the very mortal work of evil-minded men.

He swallowed away the dryness of his mouth. ‘That child was too young to remember that.’

‘Maybe. But there’s someone on colony who is old enough, I reckon.’

‘Resisting what? Fighting whom?’

‘That’ll be on the list of questions, won’t it be?’

There were no taxis, so they made the walk in silence. Wufei looked at Duo only occasionally, to assess his health; Duo looked at him not at all, stubborn as the sheen of perspiration on his forehead that wouldn't abate despite repeated application of a cotton sleeve.

The talk, brief as it had been, of the Federation-- it was like an ill wind, as his grandmother would have said. Unlucky wind. He understood Duo's purpose, he thought, in bringing it up. Duo had subtlety when he wanted, a kind of cunning about the way the mind worked. A sleek suggestion, vague enough to do its own digging through uneasy thoughts. Hardly more than an insinuation, innocently suggesting a correlation that probably didn't exist at all. And yet Wufei couldn't shake the sense of fore-ordained doom that the potentiality created.

They were much changed, he and Duo, from the boys they'd been when they'd met. Boys playing at manhood. Undergrown children, really, but all of them brilliant in mind and as intractable as the machines they'd waged war in. Too smart, in the end; too stubborn, and when they'd had no more enemies to fight they had fought each other as they'd been bred to do. Years had dulled his shame at the battle he'd almost won on Heero Yuy's body, but dreams of it still woke him at night, sweat fresh all over his body, his hands shaking. Neither he nor Trowa had ever spoken of the dizzying layers of betrayal and lies they'd walked in Dekim Barton's rebellion-- but Trowa never defended him against the accusations of others, and Wufei was well aware he deserved the censure.

Duo had said once that he'd been stupid as stupid got. But he'd said it with an odd cheerfulness, not blame.

They were grown men now. The grown man walking-- limping-- beside him, remarkably even-tempered about the entire-- adventure-- still not returning his glances, of course. For a moment, he ached a little for the boys they'd been, when they could at least speak in honesty. Feel in honesty.

'You're thinking too loud,' Duo grunted, then.

Wufei looked. There was a slight flush in Duo's cheeks, a brightness in his eyes that wasn't healthy. 'You should rest a moment,' he answered.

'Not until we're in a green zone.'

'Green zone?' He'd been absorbed. He was embarrassed at his inattention. But his body had been on the alert, if not his mind, and he found his hand on his weapon, his eyes drawn to concealed alleys, brooding eyes attending them too closely. There was a young girl, younger even than the one who'd given Duo the signals, who stood alone by a fenced lot. An older teenager lingered nearby, coat zipped tight to his throat, hands hidden deep in pockets. A dealer and his look-out. Both stared as they passed. Neither looked away until Duo directed him around a corner. When he glanced back, they were gone.

'Two more streets,' Duo said. 'The park up there. There'll be benches or something.'

'How are you feeling?'

'I'm okay.'

'I—' Duo finally met his eyes. Wufei looked away first. 'I ask in concern.'

'I feel good,' Duo answered, somewhere to his right. 'I'm supposed to feel good. It's working.'

'Just because you feel well doesn't mean you are well. In fact it probably means just the opposite. If you really were well you wouldn't feel anything at all.'

'I sat in the briefing, too. I get it.'

Frustration threatened again. He lifted his hot hair from the back of his neck, rubbed at the tension in his muscles.

Then Duo sighed, and put an arm about his shoulders. He stiffened, but Duo ignored his reaction, and went on walking, so Wufei went on walking, too, only a little off pace before Duo matched his steps and their feet landed the pavement in time.

'What are you doing?' Wufei asked him then, his voice half-strangled in his tight throat.

'Forgiving you.' Duo had tremendous body heat. His hand lay limp, dangling down over Wufei's chest, the weight of his arm negligible. But he had tremendous body heat, hotter than a furnace, and he was close enough that Wufei could hear his breathing, soft, quick exhales.

He didn't thank Duo. It was fine to be-- forgiven, for now. But they were still only two days into their mission, and there was plenty of time to earn his way out of Duo's gentle acceptance of fate.

 

**

 

Whatever they'd been meant to see, it happened before they got there. There were almost twenty bodies scattered right across the street, burnt-out cars still flaming gently at the perimetre.

'Shit,' Duo said eloquently, and abandoned him over his shouted warning. Wufei freed his sidearm and unlocked the safety. He followed slowly, though Duo had gone sprinting through the wreckage. He stopped at the first sprawled corpse, shoving with his toe to turn it over. A woman. Girl. The blood splashed across her slim chest was already drying. This, whatever it had been, had been over possibly before they'd even known it existed.

He caught Duo up by one of the cars. It was riddled with bullets, like the body slumped against the bumper. Like the adolescents inside it. In fact all the dead were teenagers. It was horrific.

'Where are the-- the people?'

Duo was searching pockets with a complete disregard for the gruesome nature of the scene. Wufei, whose stomach was not so strong, turned himself to counting the carnage. The surrounding buildings had taken damage, too. Two stores had lost their glass-front windows. The apartments above them were curtained and silent. If there were witnesses, they were deep in hiding.

'Where are the police?' he corrected himself, despite the minutes of breathless silence that had passed since his first unanswered demand. 'This has been-- over-- this had to have happened twenty minutes ago, half an hour-- Where are the police? Why aren't they here?'

'Because they probably did it,' Duo said. He had climbed half into the car with the children inside. He slid out now with a palmful of bullets. He showed these to Wufei. 'They're .40s.'

Which meant Smith and Wessons or Glock 23s. Favoured law-enforcement weaponry. Wufei reluctantly believed it. 'But even here?'

'Especially here.' Duo left soot on his cheek when he wiped his face. 'And we should get out of here now that we know.'

'We have to tell someone.'

'Who?' Duo shrugged away his shock. 'Best case, the families or the gangs will clean it up. Worst case, we'll be seen here by the wrong people and get pulled in to something we're definitely better off avoiding. It's time to go back to our hotel.'

'But—'

'This is a time when you should shut up and listen to me. I mean it, Wufei.' Duo slipped the bullets into his pocket. 'Come on. Help me wipe down the car and then we need to move.'

He obeyed then solely in response to the urgency in Duo's voice. He supplied his last clean kerchief for the task, and when Duo emerged from the car for the second time he allowed himself to be taken by the wrist and pulled along.

There was some shame, when he caught Duo looking at him in pity. But there were none of the sharp comments he deserved, or might have made if it were him in Duo's position. He could only be grateful.

 

**

 

He showered again, back at their hotel. The feeling of uncleanliness was all in his head, and he knew it, but he still felt better when he stood under the steam jets scrubbing himself with the scratchy bath flannel.

Images stuck behind his eyes with a vibrancy he hadn't experienced since he was a young man himself, witnessing the first of crippling wounds inflicted by war. But this was worse. L2 was a colony, full of such normal things like schools and shopping malls and chemists and people who-- teenagers who-- who ought to have been in all of those places, and not sprawled like broken bloodied toys in the street, so much garbage rotting with no-one there to mourn them.

Duo knocked on the bath door. When Wufei opened it, he presented him with a little bottle. Wufei took it before really looking. It was a vodka from the bar in their suite, the little brass cap unscrewed, the liquid chilly in his hand.

'You think I need it?' he asked.

'Cheers,' Duo replied, and clinked a small matching gin to his bottle. He drank. His eyes were steady on Wufei's, gentle in their lack of censure.

Wufei drank.

'Good.' Duo stepped into the bath, then, delicately stepping bare toes onto the damp mat. 'You feel better?'

'I'm fine.' He dropped his empty bottle into the waste bin. 'But-- thank you for your concern for me.'

'Believe me or not, I want the mission to make it, too.'

Of course. Stupid of him, to assume it was anything other than professionalism. He was embarrassed. He reached for his shirt, draped over the towel warmer, and shrugged it on. Duo still stood behind him, necessarily close in the tight quarters of the bath. 'I'll ring our contacts tonight. Time we should set up the meet.'

'Yeah.'

'What were we meant to see about that--' Massacre. He didn't voice that word. 'Why did that child try to send us there?'

'When I know, I'll tell you.' He glanced to the mirror to see Duo chewing his lower lip. 'I think... I think there's a big picture to all of this. And it's a big enough picture that they want outsiders aware of it.'

'Outsiders.' He had a leap of logic, then, of a kind he wasn't accustomed to. 'You mean me. Not you with me.'

Duo's eyes were steady reflection. 'Yes.'

'They still know you, here.'

'Yes.'

'How?' He turned. 'You've been gone for seven years.'

'Gone,' Duo mocked. 'Try locked away with the other criminals.'

'I didn't put you there,' Wufei countered.

'No, but it could have been you just as easily as me.' Duo's mouth twisted. 'Mariemaia sends her love.'

He stiffened, but sheer surprise kept all expression from his face. 'Why?' he demanded bluntly. 'I barely knew her.'

'I think it amuses her royal Highness. She's had two of us in her lap now.' Duo's mouth was twisted, but then unaccountably he looked down, as if he were sorry. 'She probably couldn't pick you out of a crowd, if it makes you feel better. I'm not even sure she really remembers much of the Rebellion.'

It sat there between them, an opportunity Wufei had not much expected to have. Instinct kept him tentative, knowing he might have to quickly pull back, if Duo resisted, if Duo said too much and Wufei might be obliged to-- repeat it.

He said, 'Is it so bad, there?'

Duo's face went still, blinders coming down over his eyes like dark shadows. 'They don't beat me. They feed me as much as I want. I can read, walk, sing at the top of my lungs if I take it into my head. No. I don't suppose it is so bad. Except...'

'Except what?'

Duo smiled suddenly. 'Talk about something else.'

All they'd done, since Wufei had accepted this mission, and been brought into a dark room to look on the face of a one-time friend he'd never expected to see again. 'Must I guess?' he said softly. 'What about Mariemaia? Does she even understand her imprisonment? She's a child, looking to you for companionship. Do you tell her to speak of something else, when she asks you questions about the world outside?'

'There is no world outside.' The bleak darkness was in Duo's eyes still. 'There's nothing out there but vacuum and ice. You have no idea, Wufei. You have no idea what it's like to live in a little bunker with no light, no sun, not even stars. You have no idea how it is to live like an animal in a pen, knowing there's a whole universe out there you'll never get to see again. That's how bad it is. So yes, I jumped at the chance to get off that asteroid. Even for this, even knowing they were going to stick this implant into my brain, even knowing they'll send me right back there when they're done using me. At least I'll have this to look back on. They'll never let Mariemaia off again. So I guess that says something good, huh? They trust me more than they trust a girl who used to be a six-year-old dictator.'

If he were the right kind of man, friend, he would have taken the despair in that and been moved to ask the authorities for amnesty. If he'd been that kind of man, the effort alone would have soothed his conscience-- which would be the only real result. Duo was right in that he'd be going back to his prison. He might well die there one day. If Wufei had been the right kind of man, he probably wouldn't think Duo deserved it.

Duo cut him off when he opened his mouth. 'Don't,' Duo said, and that was enough to seal the point. 'I didn't tell you so you'll weep for me, or something.' He sighed then, as if it were all too much trouble anyway, and then out of the blue he reached for the flies of Wufei's jeans and gave them a sharp unzip.

'What—' Wufei's face heated, his entire body jolted. 'What are you--' He fended off a second reach, clung to the waistband.

'Oh, stop protesting. I forgave you. You haven't said it back but you've forgiven me. And frankly, we both know this whole thing is going to go to pot, and before it does I'd really like to fool around with someone of my own choosing.'

'You didn't tell me that was-- happening. To you.'

'You thought it wouldn't?' Duo successfully distracted him, and got a good yank in to Wufei's beltloops. He stood close now, close enough to smell salt on skin, to feel the warmth of his body again. 'For someone with a love of justice you've got a singular ignorance about prison. I fought it, at first. Maybe just out of pride. But there's twenty guards with guns there to every two prisoners, and they're about as horny as we are. And trust me, if you think I'm bitter, you haven't had to listen to someone drone on about the end of their career year after year when all either of you can really get out of it is a blow job.'

'I can't.' A squirming desperation filled him. 'Duo. I won't.'

Duo's hands were hot on his waist. Duo stared at him.

'Okay,' he answered finally, and walked out of the bath.

 

**

 

'I'll admit there has been some increase in domestic disturbance,' the agent said, 'but I'm finding your stories a little hard to swallow.'

Long practise-- a long inurement to the useless scepticism of his fellow officers-- kept Wufei's temper from the surface. 'I'm sorry if it offends your sensibilities, Maquinna,' he murmured. 'But you might have a more accurate picture of your colony if you ventured down-town once in a while.'

Maquinna Cloudwalker turned dark, unimpressed eyes to him. 'Thanks for the advice.'

Duo snorted with amusement. But he didn't turn away from the window where he stood, fingering the drapes and gazing out over the colony spread. It was a fine view, from one of the tallest buildings on L2, but Wufei suspected Duo was more absorbed in trying to absent himself from the conversation. Wufei didn't blame him. He'd met with territorialism before, but it was always worse in the colonies. The Preventers who got the station posts had loyalties more complex than those with Earth-side duties. Whatever tensions had been settled in the war still had a way of cropping up in small, pesky spats that were really beside the point. Wufei, part of the rarified sub-sect of Preventers who had been born colonial but chose to live on Earth, had discovered long ago that he didn't stand on some imaginary bridge between the two sides. More often both parties rejected him, and his 'advice' fell on deaf ears.

And he had long ago given up trying to fight it. He didn't fight it now. Instead, he said, 'You'll do as you see fit with my report. On to business, then.'

Duo returned to the group for this. The smooth olive-wood inlays on the large conference-style table drew his fascination, briefly; Wufei saw from the corner of his eyes how Duo's fingers splayed gently over the wood, as if seeking warmth. Then Maquinna was slapping a thick folder down before him. The tall Mowachaht sank back into the deep leather chair opposite Wufei's. Small carved shards of whalebone clicked in his long hair as his head turned between Wufei and Duo. He said, 'Do you trust your partner?'

Duo looked up. 'Him or me?' he clarified, and the laughter was back in his face now, not hidden at all.

Wufei answered before Maquinna could take offense. 'I trust him, and in answer to your next inappropriate question, so do Command. He's the right choice for this mission.' He flipped open his dossier. 'So let's get started, shall we?'

Fortunately, Maquinna took his lead. 'Our policy is to work with anyone who will work with us,' he began, easily enough, though he addressed himself only to Wufei as if Duo didn't exist. 'We've tripped over a few of the cartels, but mostly they tolerate us as long as we don't interfere with the daily business. We have contacts with all but three of the big crime organisations. There's not much on L2 that we don't know about. The problem isn't coming from them. It's coming from loose operatives.'

'Loose-- unconnected?'

'It started with rumours. We exposed a DEA network eight years ago-- had to. Their man was wrecking our progress, trying to push them into more activity to pull the rug out from under them, when what we really needed was some quiet on-colony. Then an MI9 agent turned up very dead. Not our doing. After that, it was a German, and then one of those blundering idiots from the Sanq Academy. And there were rumours coming back to us from the cartels that all of these fools had been sticking their fingers into the private workings of the big bosses. A big no-no here. We keep our hands off the top names, and so they came to us instead, to tell us this was known to be happening, and they would deal with it in their way, very messy, or we would agree to deal with it in our own. Find out who was behind the influx of loose operatives and take them down.'

'Which you did,' Duo said. He wore a smile now. A dangerous glint of teeth, something feral hiding beneath the casual grin. 'I hope we at least made it difficult for you,' he added, and propped his chin on his fist.

Maquinna's face had gone flat with anger. 'Make him watch his tongue,' he snapped at Wufei. 'Or I might be tempted to remove it for him.'

'Later,' Wufei said. Maquinna was just as guilty as Duo for laying the bait; the long-winded briefing of recent history wasn't truly meant for Wufei's benefit, since he already knew it all. It was meant for Duo, who knew it better than either of them. He'd gone to prison for it. 'Get to the present problem.'

'We tracked the leaks.' Maquinna pulled photographs from his own dossier, sliding them across the table. 'Some very creative, very inventive string-pulling-- all hints and suggestions, nothing so concrete even as a written memorandum. All coming back to a shadow group with no name and no known affiliation, except that every one of the bastards we captured was colonial. And not one of them has ever talked.'

'It's called loyalty,' Duo interjected. 'In case you haven't run across that term, working in Preventers.'

'Enough.' It was Wufei, this time. Duo threw him a burning glare-- for only a moment. He dropped his eyes then. When he stood and left the table, Wufei didn't stop him. He waited until Duo came to a halt back at the window. 'Go on.'

Maquinna's nostrils flared wide on a sharp inhale, but he went on evenly enough. 'It seemed to be over after we rounded up the ring-leaders. We had a good six years of silence. Then it started again. L2 is crawling with agents from every little national intelligence service that can afford a shuttle ticket. The SVR, the Ministry from China, RAW, MI9, the Mossad, CIA. All of them seem to think there's something to find here. They get in each other's way, they get in the way of the cartels, and they most definitely step on my feet.'

'Doing what?'

'The Ministry seems to be dealing arms. RAW are buying politicians left and right. The SVR blunder around killing people, and even on L2 bodies do register some outrage. They all pass documents, information, computer secrets. It's become a warren around here. Even the criminals find it repellent.'

'And the goal?'

'We don't know.' Maquinna turned his dark eyes to Duo again. 'But Command think he can find out. So I hope they're right.'

 

**

 

'Tyden Miller,' Duo read. 'Miller? Who the fuck is named Miller?'

'Apparently you are.' Wufei took back the ID package. They'd used an older picture of Duo, to match the fake issue date. It was one of his prison ID photos-- he looked grave and a little ill in it, eyes slanting away from the camera. But the name and license information was for a new identity, this Tyden Miller, just as Duo had read, and there was a visa that matched it and even an artfully constructed rap sheet with an extensive criminal record of minor felonies and two convictions for assault. Maquinna's people had thought of everything needed to get Duo started.

Except that-- 'I don't think you should use these,' Wufei said slowly. 'Not if, as you say, people know you here. No-one anticipated your particular celebrity.'

'I'll carry it anyway. Everyone and their mother on L2 has a fake ID. It could still come in handy.' Duo chuckled over the wallet they'd supplied, appropriately worn at the seams and scratched from long use. He tucked it into a back pocket. 'You know, I think all this undercover stuff is romantic to you Preventers. Like an exercise in make-believe. It's more fun that cuffing the bad guys.'

'I'll thank you not to lump me in with everyone else.' There was plenty more among the papers Maquinna had supplied to occupy his attention, but Wufei found himself distracted by the things they hadn't talked about. 'He really didn't believe us, about the bodies.'

'And he never will. It'll all be gone by the time he sends anyone down there to look. That's the problem with the ivory-tower types. Just because he was born here doesn't mean he's a mensch, you know?' Duo had found the rap sheet. He laughed again. 'This really is hilarious.'

'He didn't mention that the police were corrupt.'

'Because it's not worth mentioning. The police have always been corrupt. They join for the sign-up bonus and they stay for the bribes. They charge less than the gangs and the cartels, at least.'

'He raised one good point.' Wufei propped his pillow behind his back and settled against the headboard. Duo mimicked him, sprawling back on his bed, but just as quickly was on his feet again, wandering to the bureau to inspect his sutures in the wall mirror hanging above it. 'When he asked if I trust you.'

Duo found his eyes in the mirror. 'You said you did. You lie to him?'

'I trust you can do what you were brought here to do. That you're able.'

'But not that I'll be a good little soldier while I do it?' Duo's good mood seemed unshakable. He was laughing again. 'Well, congratulate yourself on your good instincts. I won't be. I'll do it my way, and we'll probably fight about it again, until you get your head out of your butt and remember that if the fine Lieutenant Cloudwalker could do it alone, he would've. I don't fool myself that I'm here because Command are reaching for the last resort. You shouldn't fool yourself either.' He turned, leaning on the bureau, arms crossing low over his chest. 'But I swore up and down on a Bible that I wouldn't run off into the ether. And I won't. One thing Cloudwalker failed to bring up was our spectacular failure to actually accomplish anything last time. And there's only one thing on L2 that people really won't forgive: a loser. I'm under no illusion that I'll be invited to join anyone's rebellion again.'


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But Preventers had done what Preventers did. The truth had come out. Duo had admitted to everything. No mild smiles then. A silent bitter stare, then. He'd said, It was worth it. I would do it again._

'If you would answer me,' Wufei replied reasonably, 'I wouldn't have to keep asking.'

'It feels fine. I wouldn't have gone to Lonny if he was a total hack and slash, you know? I would like to walk out of here in relatively the same condition I arrived.'

If not a little worse for wear. Duo was currently scrubbing his hands-- not to clean them, but to ingrain a little 'honest dirt' beneath his nails. And he'd decided to wear his bloodied shirt from the night he'd been stabbed. There was a faint but visible circle of red on the grey cotton, faded where Wufei had tried to wash it out. There were, no doubt, convoluted and intriguing reasons behind Duo's decisions. Wufei's own decision was not to ask for them.

'All right,' Duo said finally. 'I think I'm good to go. Do we have any of my Rescues left?'

Wufei checked their suite refrigerator. 'No. I'm sorry. I can pick up a pack.'

Duo shrugged it off. 'Just wanted a treat before I got started. It's okay. You ready?'

'Why ask me? All I'm here to do is make sure you do your job.'

'You mean hold my hat while I save the day.' Duo mimed doffing a cap at him. 'In that case, don't wait up for me tonight. I mean it. Don't freak out if I'm not back by lights-out. The interesting stuff never starts until after the seven o'clock news.'

It was an effort to accept that with a mute nod. It was an effort because one of the most severely stressed injunctions he'd received from Director Une herself was that Duo not be unsupervised. But Duo had immediately made a case, a very good case, for being on his own recognisance for the first day at least, and Wufei saw his logic. He didn't know if he quite believed Duo would really come back, though. Duo's round face seemed as honest and open as ever. Indeed he couldn't think of a time when Duo had lied to him. But it was hard to shake both his training and his sense of premonition.

It seemed as well that Duo knew the whole of his internal conflict. But he did not address it, and Wufei did not acknowledge it either.

'Right,' Duo said then. 'You know, if you want to be useful while I'm gone, you might consider earning some brownie points for me.'

'Brownie points?'

'Do me an advantage.' Duo's eyes slid sideways of his. Wufei was almost getting used to that. 'There's a place you could maybe check on for me.'

He wished that didn't make him suspicious. 'What place?'

'Just a place. I just want to know if it's still there, still, uh, okay. Okay, you don't have to do it. Sorry. It was a stupid question. I'm sure you have super-secret mission stuff to do while I'm gone.' There was more, but it went into an indistinct mumble as Duo ducked his head. Wufei opened his mouth to respond, but Duo didn't wait for it. He grabbed his coat from the bed and strode for the door. Wufei hesitated too long in calling him back, but then Duo turned to him again anyway, his fingers in a fisted ball of unexplainable nerves.

'Try not to walk so much like a cop, is all,' Duo said, and then their door was slamming shut on the empty hallway behind him.

He didn't walk at all that day, as it happened.

He knew Maquinna would welcome him back at Preventers Plaza, and would probably be more congenial without Duo there, but he couldn't bring himself to be so ambitious. The quiet after Duo left seemed warm and enveloping, a release from tension he hadn't been entirely aware of carrying. It took him two hours to admit he was enjoying being alone.

His brain was, anyway. Since they'd told him it was Duo he'd be working with-- since they'd told him what his mission entailed, he'd been trying to walk a slim edge with grace and balance. He didn't think he'd much succeeded. He did think that Duo was carefully, very carefully pushing him, an inch at a time. He wasn't sure in which direction he was meant to tip.

There was too much to settle. There seemed to have been no real pause in which to absorb, to think about what he'd seen since they'd come on colony. Since that first night when he'd unwisely let Duo direct him into the heart of downtown and Duo had been stabbed--

Which seemed a strange thing to have happened, if it was true that even the young among the gangs recognised him. He hadn't thought of that before. Duo certainly hadn't mentioned it. And Lonny had immediately known Duo, though at the time Wufei had only assumed the man reacted to the sight of blood and obvious need. He thought about Duo's word for it, venn. It seemed a strange way for a society to operate. Yet it clearly did, if they knew him. If they arranged for him to be witness to things. If they arranged for Wufei to see them, simply because he stood next to Duo.

And he just truly hadn't settled it yet, the visceral reaction he'd had to Duo being stabbed, Duo being stabbed and those bodies the next day, all those dead children. He'd certainly seen enough death in his years, and even some as gruesome as that scene. But all had been in war-time or in combat, and all had been years ago, when he'd felt more resilient to it all. When he'd been young enough to believe the world might grow better than it had been for him, and that he might grow better to help make it so.

It was the Year of the Rooster. His birth year. The Rooster had made him confident in his judgment, strong in his independent spirit. Dishonesty was alien to him, distasteful and foreign. The Rooster had made him value order and disdain chaos. And Rooster years restored order-- they were the year for rebuilding out of the destruction of mischievous Monkey year, for finding harmonious compromise in dispute, releasing bitterness and resentment. It was a time to plan for the future, to review one's resources and sow the appropriate seeds.

Don't shout at the darkness, his grandmother had told him once. He had been a child, much younger than those children who had died in the massacre yesterday, young enough still to sit with her rather than play with the older boys. He had watched lovingly the smooth velvet passage of her brush over the calligraphy scrolls, loved the smoky scent of the ink. She had been the one to draw his eight characters, to discover his Element, giving him fire to melt his metal, and it had been her brush that had first drawn his name. Only children shout at the darkness, she had told him. Wise men put on a light.

So what light was he meant to put on here? So far he had seen nothing on L2 to love. Yet Duo loved it. Or was at least-- enmeshed with it. Inextricable from its fabric. To Wufei's eyes there were only tumble-downs, but Duo saw communities and people. Wufei saw danger and menace. Duo was unafraid.

But Duo had done his wrongs here, too. Maquinna had only half guessed at the depth of it, and what more Wufei knew was doubtless only a piece of the greater puzzle. Duo had never made a secret of his games. Duo was smarter than that-- smarter than Wufei had been about his own betrayal. Duo had always blandly admitted to sticking his nose into business on his home colony. And so they had all let the mentions go unmentioned, shrugging off Duo's involvement as peripheral only even as evidence mounted that something was seriously amiss on L2. When Duo had been arrested Wufei had even thought it unfair, had protested on his behalf, and so had Quatre and even Barton, who rarely moved himself to protest for anyone. And then the truth had rolled out, and there had been Duo, quite possibly the mastermind of a very dark and very deadly scheme all aimed at a word that no-one dared to speak in Space anymore: sovereignty.

Duo was right, in his way. His crime and Wufei's were hardly different. They had both carried thwarted ambitions from the War of 195, a war that had ended without redressing anything. Wufei had been angry enough to launch his rebellion in the immediate wake of war, and he had only followed, a servant to another man's twisted vision. Duo had been by any measure a reasoning adult, a man who had waited years for the opportunity, years of peace, and still decided it was his time to fight. He'd lured foreign nations onto L2, agents who had blundered through the landscape stirring up troubles they couldn't conceive of. And when each had become convinced they'd lost enough blood in Space, had gained enough of a stake on L2, they'd gone to the Parliament and demanded rights, restitution, and overlordship. And just as Duo had known they would, the people of L2 had fought back, with the other colonies lining up behind them. For sovereignty.

There had nearly been a War of 208, that year.

But Preventers had done what Preventers did. The truth had come out. Duo had admitted to everything. No mild smiles then. A silent bitter stare, then. He'd said, It was worth it. I would do it again.

Would do it again.

 

When he fell asleep near midnight, Duo still hadn't come back. He was almost resigned to it. He laid cheek to pillow with just the ironic thought that Une might be the only one surprised to hear the news.

 

But when he went to the lobby for breakfast in the morning, Duo slid into the seat across from him, a little dirtier than the morning before and sporting a rather fantastic black eye.

'God, I'm starving,' Duo said, and took his half-eaten cereal.

Wufei, for his part, felt both deep relief and something uncomfortably like amusement. It was, at least, just like Duo to upset all his expectations, even the unspoken ones.

'You want ice for the eye?' was all he asked.

'Nah.' Duo shoveled a large spoonful of Weetabix between his teeth, but it didn't stop him speaking, mumbling, between chewing. 'Late for it. It'll swell or it won't, but it's okay.'

'Who hit you?'

'This little old lady beaned me with her freakin' purse.' Duo paused for a sip of Wufei's orange juice. 'I'm not even kidding. And there must have been, like, a brick or something in there, or like one of those school textbooks, because I thought she'd gone and blinded me.'

'And what did you do to earn such an assault?'

'It was-- well, it started off as-- a convenient way to introduce Tyden Miller to the local officials.' Duo finished his cereal and craned his neck to survey the spread of food on the buffet. 'Are there eggs over there? Real eggs?'

'Just beaters.'

'Damn. So anyway, there's cops all over the place. Way more than there should be. Usually they stay up-town, right, as far away from real work as they can get. I ran into three cars before I hit Valentine. So these two fucktards start trailing me around 42nd, and it was getting to the point where I wasn't going to be able to get anything done, so I just grabbed the first purse I saw coming toward me. If I'd known I was robbing a former heavyweight boxing champion, I might have picked my mark a little more carefully.'

Wufei gave up his tea when Duo reached for that too. 'I still don't understand why you tried to rob her. Wouldn't it have been better to avoid the police?'

'Because of the celebrity factor?' Duo drained his tea in quick swallows, though it was still steaming. Wufei didn't miss that Duo was rubbing his hand against his knee beneath the table, tapping his feet. His pupils were dilated. Wufei almost suspected him of taking something illicit, before the answer occurred to him. The implant was working overtime. Duo was-- overstimulated.

'Did they accept your ID?' he asked.

'They take anything on paper as God's gospel.'

'But they let you go.'

'I sat in lock-up for like seven hours, but since I hadn't actually got anywhere with the purse they had to let me out. It's nothing big. I used to do it when I was a kid so I could get a warm meal or a shower sometimes. Of course, back in my day, everyone played by the rules.' His sniff of disdain was exaggerated, but the sentiment of disgust seemed real enough. 'They didn't even offer me a candy bar or anything. Total bastards about it.'

'So Tyden Miller is in the system now.'

'Tyden Miller was in the system as soon as Cloudwalker put him there. Now he's just active again. Trust me, there's no better disguise than petty criminal around here. I'll give him that. I'm as good as invisible to the cops now.'

'Congratulations,' Wufei said dryly. He eyed Duo's jittery stare around the lobby canteen, and offered, 'Perhaps you'd like to go wash up. I'll stay down here long enough to actually eat my own breakfast.'

An out. Duo would need some time alone, to work off whatever chemical release the implant had sparked.

He didn't have to ask what had caused it, at least. When Duo stood to go, Wufei saw the new stain of blood on Duo's shirt. His wound was bleeding again. 'Thanks,' Duo said, breezy as a summer day, but his smile was a grimace.

'You're welcome,' Wufei told his back.

Sometimes he suspected Duo of being born in a Monkey year.

 

**

 

When he finally made his way back to their room, he found Duo sitting on the toilet in the bath, gluing his wound together with the edge of a cotton swab. Wufei crouched at his feet to take over the job.

Close like this, Duo smelled like sweat, rubbing alcohol-- and not a little bit like sex. He still seemed edgy, and he'd forgot the zip on his trousers after, but he didn't jump at Wufei's touch, and his breathing was deep and even. Wufei found the little tube of superglue resting on the edge of the sink and spread more over the swab. 'How did it happen?' he asked.

'Don't know. Didn't notice it until an hour ago, or something.'

It looked as though it were mending, or had been before whatever agitation had torn it open again. The edges were crusting where the suture had held. A knot had unravelled, that was all. Wufei sealed it with the glue, pinching carefully at Duo's skin for nearly a minute to be safe.

He said, 'You didn't really tell me if you'd made progress.'

'I thought I implied it. You knew it wouldn't be overnight.'

'I didn't know you'd be spending half your time in holding. You made no contacts?'

'Now that I didn't say.' Duo reached for the towel rack behind him, stretching his lean muscles, rolling his head on his shoulders. 'I checked in on a few people I used to know. Well, I tried to. The old neighbourhoods are a little different in make-up. Fair enough. It's not just L2 where power turns over rapidly.'

'No, it's not.' Wufei touched his hand wide over Duo's ribcage, feeling for the heat and discolouration that would indicate internal bleeding. Nothing at all. If it hadn't bled so much the night it had happened, Wufei might have called it a remarkably lucky injury to have. A stab to the abdomen that missed all the organs and produced no significant difficulty after-- lucky was the word. If there were no reasons to suspect it hadn't been luck at all.

Duo was looking at him when he glanced up. 'Those kids,' Duo said to him. 'The ones who were shot. I have a fair idea who did it. Word's spread.'

'There were witnesses?'

'Probably, but they'll never come forward. Too dangerous. No, I mean word gets around, a few sources who heard it from a few sources who probably got it right. They're saying it was police, like I guessed, but here's the catch. They were targeting. This was a hit.'

That had his attention. 'Targeting whom?'

'That's where the information gets a little speculative, but for my two cents, I'd lay odds it didn't have anything to do with the gangs. I think those kids were part of something new, something worse than the gangs.'

'What do you mean?' His hands had thought nothing of it while his mind was occupied with L2's twists and turns-- he had wet one of the little flannels in the sink and discovered himself now gently cleaning Duo's belly, as he had that night at Lonny's, at the motel afterward. Duo was letting him. Eyes sleepy, heavy-lidded, his mouth parted just a little to expel his quiet words, Duo was letting him.

'It used to be no-one really worked together here, like I told you.' Duo breathed so evenly. 'The gangs had the streets, a few blocks here and there. The cartels had the business, the trade. The politicians, well, they were mostly Alliance, going back to the war, and the smart ones kept their heads low after the war and mostly stayed where they are. They had the police to do their dirty work, but they were mostly self-supporting. Everyone was. I don't think that's how it is here anymore.'

'How would that have happened?'

'I told you how there were more police down-town. What's always kept them from a show of force is there was no reason to start a battle on the street. Whatever's happening here, whatever's being stirred up by these rogue agents Cloudwalker thinks are here again, I think it's changed the relationships here.'

Wufei puzzled his way through that, teasing out the threads of Duo's logic and experience. 'Who are the police working for now?'

'Just my guess, but I think they're still playing for the elected elite, they're just playing harder now. I think the ones to watch are the cartels.'

'Mafia.'

'We've got them too, but the cartels are something bigger. Mafia are mostly interested in their own business. They keep themselves in check. Each cartel keeps the next one in line, because open conflict is messy, it's expensive, and tends to encourage betrayal. Cloudwalker's policy, dealing with whoever deals with him, it's got some basis in reality. The founders bring in associates, the associates bring in associates, and eventually it's top-heavy. Cloudwalker probably plays them all off each other, and for a while it was beneficial to be in on the agreements, not outside of it and dealing with the Preventers on top of each other.' Duo sucked in a sharp breath, and for a moment his fingers hovered over Wufei's, where they rested in the hollow beneath Duo's sternum. 'It-- uh-- but with the police stepping up and really doing their job for once, with these foreign nationals on colony and knowing how that ended the last time, I think the cartels weighed their options and decided it was time to recruit an expendable ally.'

The mind could spin. It did. Wufei considered himself good at what Preventers had been conceived to do, putting out fires with superior firepower and guerrilla strikes, just as the Gundams had many years ago, but when it came to these murky criminal underworlds he lost patience with trying to keep it all straight. He felt the old impatience threatening already, even with Duo's tolerant explanations. He'd only accepted the mission because of Duo, really, because they needed someone who knew Duo and could anticipate him and out-manoeuvre him, not-- not double check his maths and evaluate his conclusions.

'Maybe the Sevans,' Duo said. 'They control a lot of the drugs coming in and going off L2, and a lot of that business filters down to the gang dealers. Maybe Al-Masri. They've got the money to waste. Hand out weapons, cash-- do exactly what Cloudwalker's doing, talk to whoever'll give you the time of day and promise them a slice of the profit pie if they'll--'

'What?'

'Run some shake-downs. Take out a few prominent locals from the other side of things. Draw attention away from what the cartels are really doing. Do the dying when the time comes.'

'Those dead children. They were a smokescreen.'

'They got put in the middle, between the cartels and everyone else.'

'So who's working with the rogue agents?'

'Don't know yet.' Duo's head tipped back, and then he did grip Wufei's hand, tight by the wrist and the delicate hand bones so that Wufei tensed and tried to pull away. Duo resisted for just a moment, then shoved him backward.

'Don't fucking play around with me,' Duo spat, and left him on his ass on the bath mat, slamming the door behind him.

Wufei followed Duo back to their bedroom. 'I'm not fucking with you,' he protested.

'Bull, Wufei.' Duo ripped into his luggage, freed a shirt from the bottom by wrenching it out. 'It was one thing when I thought you really didn't want it from me anymore, but then you sit there practically feeling me up? Bull.'

'I didn't--' But there was nothing really to say. From Duo's perspective it most certainly must seem cruel. Wufei felt his face heat. 'I'm sorry.'

Duo was stiff-backed, his head held proudly high. The shirt turned over and over in his hands.

'It's been-- a while,' Wufei managed, before his natural reticence in such matters overcame his ambition to explain himself. To Duo, a man with whom he had never had much common language; except for sex.

'Well it hasn't been for me.' Duo finally dressed himself, buttoned that loose fly. 'But given my druthers I'd rather have someone I remotely care about. Maybe that doesn't mean anything to you. Maybe you'd rather have some man with no face, no name, no control over you. You want to know what it's like out there? Numb. So fucking numb. And you bring me out here, and I know it's not you you, it's Preventers you, but I knew you before you wore the uniform and it makes me feel things around you. It makes me--'

Wufei had to wet his dry lips to speak. 'I think it makes me, too.'

The admission was all Duo wanted. He nodded, in real acceptance, though his teeth gnawed the inside of his cheek. 'I want to crash for a little while. You can watch TV or whatever, it won't wake me.'

'You'll go again tonight?'

'It's what you hired me for.'

 

**

 

Duo had more to report the next morning.

'It's all stirred up,' he said, with none of yesterday's manic energy. Wufei shared his tea willingly, and Duo held the cup as if it hurt his fingers, taking delicate sips. 'The old street kings have all been replaced, like in the last two years replaced, and the ones running things now didn't come up for challenge in the usual way-- they're all older, for one thing, not the young guns who prey on each other faster than an election cycle. And everyone thinks they got some kind of heavy backing from somewhere that is definitely not legit.'

'Who is everyone?' Wufei wondered. 'And why do they think it's not legitimate?'

'Police, politicians, they'd never get involved in picking runners out of the gangs. They wouldn't know one from another. Think about it. Even if, who, like the Governor or someone convened a task force and even had the money to dedicate, invested in really researching the gangs, of which there are dozens, they still wouldn't be able to get in their stool pigeons, because everyone recognises a stool pigeon. This smells different, you know? Take the Knights. There's never been anyone over thirty running that operation. When I was here last there'd just been a shake-up and the new guy, Javier Gartrell, put a bullet or twelve in the old guy, Ricardo Moreno. And by old I mean twenty-two. There's been two more honchos since Javier. One was nineteen from the day he knifed Javier to the day he lost his face to the tyres of three attack dogs, and one was a highly precocious thirteen year old who recently took a dive off his apartment roof and landed with a sliced carotid. The new guy? Alejandro Fernandez, and he's forty-six. That's old-timer in the gangs. Most guys, you survive that long and you still haven't made it to the top, you marry whatever girl you knocked up last and you retire to run a nice racket in the back room of your liquor store.'

'Like Lonny?' Wufei pounced, suddenly sure he knew the way of it for once.

But Duo shook his head. 'Lonny's something else. Something else pretty far sideways of everything I'm talking about now. But keep guessing.'

'Hasn't done me any good so far,' Wufei admitted sardonically.

Duo's lips curled for a moment. 'You'll get it before we leave.'

'But do you know who the backers are yet?'

'Probably those rogue agents Cloudwalker'd like to shove out the nearest airlock. They've got the time, the money, and the motivation to stick their noses in.'

'But how does this tie in with the cartels and what you told me yesterday?'

'No clue,' Duo said cheerfully. 'Hey, you didn't eat yet, did you? No? Come out with me. I'll take you to the best eats on L2. Seriously.'

'No,' Wufei began, taken aback. 'It's really not appropriate--'

'For you to leave the hotel? For you to leave the hotel with me? News for you, plenty of people have already seen us together. News for you too, none of them care if we eat.'

It was also well within his budget for the trip, and if they'd planned on him eating, Mission Control had probably also planned on him eating with Duo. Just as he thought it, though, he was irritated with himself. He didn't have a strict itinerary and even if he did, he had never been the kind of agent who clung to rules and regulations to define his every action. If he was looking for an excuse not to be around Duo, then he was simply behaving childishly. Duo had obviously forgiven him yet another slight, and it was ridiculous to hold back. And he was thoroughly tired of the slim breakfast buffet served by the hotel, anyway.

'That's fine,' he said, as graciously as he could manage, and left a small tip for the cup they had drank. 'Is it far?'

Duo's grin returned in a sudden burst. 'Not down-town, if that's what you mean. I know the occasional up-scale business, too.'

'That remains to be seen, I think.'

'Nah, for real. Put your coat on.' Duo was on his feet, enthusiastic enough, though he seemed pale under the ruddy lobby light. 'And if it worries you, I can duck down in the car.'

There were cabs, here, though Duo got a suspicious glance in his dusty clothes. They sat beside each other on the creaking leather seats as the driver tucked a mobile back to his ear and chattered loudly. The gentle rocking motion of the car seemed to relax Duo, who had found a clean-wipe in his pocket and was washing his face and hands. Wufei found a carry-pack of acetominophin tabs in his own pocket and offered them; Duo actually smiled his thanks.

'Are we all right?' Wufei asked him.

'Don't say things like that. You sound too much like me.' Duo nudged him with an elbow. 'We're all right. Sorry I blew up like that. It's kind of ridiculous of me. I mean, we both know this is a transaction, right? Preventers get what they want, I get a few weeks of freedom.'

'Yes. A transaction.'

'Way to go girly, right. Whinging about my feelings and my sex life.' Duo crumpled the wipe and stuffed it back in his pocket. 'So, the flapjacks at this place are supreme, right, and they do seasonal themes, so if my calculations are correct we're in time for Pumpkin Spice and possibly Rhubarb Cheddar. But if you're not a flapjack kind of man, I suggest the savoury crepes. The mushrooms are fresh and the secret spices in the filling are amazing. People have come all the way from Earth trying to steal the chef away, but she always says no-how. Total fool, obviously.'

'Another venn?'

'You could call it that.' Duo leant over him to point. 'There, you can see it now. With the cute little overhang thing.'

A white- and red-checked canopy shading a small courtyard of iron-wrought tables. The restaurant itself was the first storey of a tall business building, brightly-lit, elegant somehow in its clumpy squat. 'It's like it's a completely different part of the colony,' he observed quietly.

'It is. It's the good part.'

A part without the violence. There would be no dead teenage gangsters here. A part without the filth and the suspicion and the frustration, the sense that everything had stopped here once and somehow never quite started again.

Their taxi slid to a halt. Duo clapped him on the knee. 'Come on. You know what else is good here? Do you eat beef? She, the chef, she makes a really good hash, corned beef and all these vegetables, you can get a runny egg with it, soft yolk egg. Real eggs, not beaters or reconstituted. You'll like it.' He was the one who paid the driver, dropping two folded bills through the plate glass window, and he turned to extend his hand, to help Wufei through the door. 'Real eggs,' he repeated then. 'Yeah, you'll really like it.'

The grip of Duo's hand was warm. When they released, Duo's hand settled on his shoulder instead, guiding him along at Duo's side as they walked for the door.

They were seated at a small table beside a mirrored wall that glowed golden with real candlelight set in pretty fall flower arrangements. The table cloths were cream and chocolate, the menus printed on thick water-marked paper, not plastic bound pages. If Duo looked a bit like a drifter who'd found his way in by accident, he seemed undaunted. He left smudges on the menu, but their server smiled brightly at them both.

'Tea,' Duo said again. 'And milk please. Wufei, what do you want? Is the milk fresh?'

'We got it in yesterday,' the server replied. 'Tea for two?'

'Please.' Wufei shifted on his chair cushion. When they were alone again, he asked Duo, 'One might think you were obsessed with food.'

'One is. I'm not complaining about the accommodations, but prisons don't usually stock a gourmet kitchen, you know? I'm tired of soya cultures.'

Understandable.

So dangerous with Duo. He made everything understandable. He was good at that. The small curl of a dimple that hinted at a smile, that slight tone of deprecation, voicing trivialities as if he were only making conversation. Did you believe him? Did you trust him? Could you afford to?

Their server was back with the tea. He set a pewter pot between them, small cups on saucers. 'Your milk, sir,' he said, and added a plate of still-steaming scones with cream spread. 'Compliments of the chef.'

Wufei looked sharply at Duo. Duo blandly returned his gaze.

'Thank you,' Wufei said.

'Are you ready to order, gentlemen?'

'Beans on toast with a poached egg, please.'

'And for you, sir?'

Duo sucked on his lower lip. 'The Rhubarb flapjacks, hash and Cumberland sausage. And a poached egg for me too, and the rolled herring. And grilled tomato.'

The young man never registered by so much as a twitch of the eyelash any surprise at the size of the order. 'Fifteen minutes, sirs. Enjoy your tea.'

Duo set his elbows on the edge of the table, his hand to his chin. 'Look around this place and tell me what you see.'

'A game?' Wufei was surprised, wary. He fumbled his napkin into his lap.

'Not quite a game. Take a gander. Go on.'

He looked. At first he saw nothing different from his first observations; the ceilings were low and wore bronze tiles turning green with age. The cream uniforms the servers wore were crisp and new with the morning's first shift. Everything smelled like sweet honey and rich salty cooking. The other people at the tables, the customers were mostly business types, suited and reading the morning paper, talking into mobile phones like their cabbie had. A few elderly couples ate primly, speaking infrequently between bites.

'What am I supposed to see?' he asked finally.

'Maybe there's nothing. Even on L2 there are some places that are innocent.'

'But you wouldn't have--'

He saw it then. A woman standing at the kitchen door.

'Black hair,' he supplied in a murmur. 'Looking right back at us.'

'Not her. She's not the one you're supposed to see right now.'

Thrown again off his pace. 'Who am I to--'

'Just look,' Duo repeated patiently. 'You can be here to babysit me or you can learn something about the landscape. I mean, come on, right? This isn't going to be the last time L2 gets twisted. Learn how to look.'

He was uncomfortable with the pressure Duo's prodding put on him. He was uncomfortable with the indulgent tone, as if he were a student not quite measuring up, and he was uncomfortable with the slight air of challenge in Duo's raised brows, the little-- yes, flashing so subtly, but there, the dimple disappearing behind the gold rim of the teacup as Duo sipped his tea.

But in some ways he'd always been at his best when he was angry. It didn't fail him now.

'That's Lucine Manerian.' The woman seated close to the window at a table of men in dark suits; her hair was dyed an aubergine purple, cut into a severe bob that emphasised the triangularity of her small face. Her finger stabbed at the table cloth as she spoke to her companions.

'Good. Who else?'

His mind was alive to it now. 'Damijan Balosak. There by the bar.'

'And the lady with him?'

'Greta Swidleton.' He poured his own tea, exercising iron control to keep his excitement from his face, from his hands. His grip was steely and he stirred lemon into his tea with perfect restraint. 'What are half of L2's Parliamentary representatives doing at this particular restaurant?'

'Maybe they like the eggs, too.' Duo paused long enough to drink nearly the full glass of milk; he sighed in deep satisfaction. 'You want to rub elbows with the big-wigs, you come here. You want to know what the big-wigs are up to, you make friends with the staff.'

'And you cleverly have friends in the right places.'

'That is my supposed talent, isn't it.'

'But I thought you said the politicians weren't likely to be directly involved in the things we've seen since we came on-colony.'

'No, but I'm the first to admit that I never much cared for up-towners, and I'm wise enough to admit to a weakness. Just because they're not nosing around in what's up with the gangs or even the cartels, there's no guarantees they're not up to something that connects in the big picture.'

Wufei grimaced, and tore open a scone to spread with cream. 'I think I need to start keeping diagrams.'

Duo laughed at that, in genuine amusement. 'I wouldn't discount it. You'll need them to draw the lines for Maquinna, that's for sure. I've never met a Preventer who wasn't content to take the obvious until he had his face shoved in reality.'

He was himself slyly included in that, and couldn't claim it wasn't true. He made a sour face, and Duo chuckled anew. 'Give me the benefit at least of having been a decade removed from colonial politics. I'd almost forgot the-- chaos.'

'Virus in the machine. Spreads to the network eventually. L2's just the first to show the symptoms. Don't think it won't infect the rest eventually. How's that for a special talent.'

His momentary mirth fled. Duo was absolutely correct.

He ate his scone slowly, pressing the crumbs into his thumb to clean his plate. 'Why do they come here?' he said, nodding at Manerian, now arguing with her table. 'If the staff pass on their secrets.'

'Oh, the staff are mum enough. You have to be, to get this kind of business. But you've got a badge, and they've got ears. You'll get what you need, which is a hint with an anonymous source. You can follow that into the highest office on the colony, if that's where it takes you. Everyone's guilty of something, and politicians are guiltier than most. Ask the right questions and you might not even waste the rest of your life here trying to get to the bottom of it all.'

He could not even be amazed at the depths of Duo's knowledge. Une had been more right than anyone could have realised, when she'd insisted Maxwell was the right man for the job. It took a lifetime to learn what Duo had at his fingertips. It might take something more inherent to navigate it as Duo did, as if it were effortless, as if it were-- accomplishable. Maquinna Cloudwalker would retire without significantly changing the landscape here. Duo had done it in three years, and Duo might do it again now.

And between that yawning fear the thought inspired in him and the moment it took to reach for his cooling tea, he stepped back from the edge and the ground beneath him shifted. Silly, to imbue Duo with some god-like omniscience. Duo knew what he was talking about because Duo had done all this already, nothing more. All he was doing now was reversing, unravelling what he'd done before. Credit him with the intelligence to see that broader perspective he kept bringing to Wufei, but be realistic in assessing him. Duo was only a man who knew how to manipulate other men, and that was enough.

'I'll get you started once we've eaten,' Duo said. 'Then if you want you can follow any leads. But I'm sacked. I think I'll go back to the hotel then. Sleep it off. How's that for a division of labour?'

'Yes,' Wufei answered. 'I think that does nicely.'

 

**

 

The woman who had watched them from the kitchen door was at work behind a grill when they slipped inside. The spatula in her slim hand flipped and twisted on instinct, as her bright blue eyes tracked their progress past the other cooks and the servers loading trays from the warming rack.

'Get out of the way,' she told them shortly, plated the hotcake she was working on, and thrust her chin at a little nook between two large frigidaires. Duo obeyed her, Wufei following slowly. There were empty crates that served as seats, and they sat knocking knees as they waited.

It took nearly twenty minutes, as shouting ebbed and flowed around them, servers scurrying past, before the woman finally came for them. 'Outside,' she said, beckoning them along with a curt thumb. Once again Wufei took the trail end of the queue, thoughtfully taking a last look behind him. There didn't seem to be anyone watching them go, too wrapped up in their own quick turnaround, but he still had the feeling of being observed.

They exited the kitchen onto a back loading dock. The woman leant against the outside wall, cross-armed and close-faced. Duo relaxed against the back edge of the dumpster, and said casually, 'You're getting fat.'

'I'm the same weight I was the day we met, and you know it.' The woman raked them both down and up, unimpressed. She said, 'I see they let you out.'

'Good behaviour.'

'I'm sure.' She turned her face to Wufei then. 'I remember you. You look exactly the same.'

He glanced at Duo, but got no help there. 'Do we know each other, Miss?'

'Not to exchange names.' She wiped her hand across the stained front of her white smock and extended it. 'You're Wufei Chang.'

He did not correct her assumption in Westernising his name. 'And you are?'

'Sawyer,' Duo supplied. 'Tom Sawyer.'

'Tom?' He was confused, aware that Duo was teasing, but not sure which of them was the target. 'I thought Tom was a man's name.'

'It is.' The woman's eyes flickered in grim laughter, though she didn't smile. 'He's the only one who thinks it's funny, but you can call me that anyway.' She pressed his hand briefly, strong enough to leave a little tingle in his fingers before she released him. 'Why are you here?'

'Sly buzz. Dropping in to check on you, see what you have to pass on.' Duo cocked his head at her. Again Wufei had the impression of silent communication between him and the woman Tom, but what it was he couldn't discern from their expressions. Her stance was slightly hostile, to Duo if not to himself, but yet she'd made time for them and seemed to be one of Duo's 'venns'. Perhaps, he imagined, even an old friend who had been betrayed, as he had been, when Duo's criminal activities had come to light. She'd needled him about prison, after all.

'I've got nothing for you, Duo,' she told him flatly, which at least confirmed the direction of Wufei's suspicions. 'You shouldn't have come here asking for that.'

'Who should I ask else? You could cook for anyone. You cook for _these_ people, and let's not pretend you do it deaf.' Duo stared hard at her, shifting to remain in her line of sight when she threw her head back in a contemptuous dismissal. 'You owe me, Sawyer. Every plate you serve in there you get to because of me.'

'You take a lot of credit, Maxwell.' She went white-faced with anger, though her eyes blazed icily with her temper. 'Too damn much credit.'

'If I was wrong we wouldn't have made it in the door. So give over.'

Her little hands made tight fists. 'You get no more than five minutes with my staff.'

'No time limits,' Duo countered. 'He'll ask--'

'He?' She blinked in surprise. 'You?' she demanded suddenly from Wufei.

He met her wide eyes with a poker face of his own. 'This is an official national investigation,' he answered, tapping the length of his finger to his nose. 'As Duo said, on the sly. I only want to ask some questions.'

She considered him, still with that direct stare as if she were weighing and measuring him. 'All right,' she agreed finally, not graciously, but without the animosity she had shown the idea when she'd believed it was Duo who would be nosing about in her kitchen. 'If you can wait around until the crowd clears out at half-eight, there should be time enough to do your interviews. But if you threaten any of my people, if you so much as frown at someone--' Her finger pointed dangerously at him. 'I'll toss you out personally.'

Her admonitions made him smile, though he was careful to keep any trace of warmth from his expression. 'I am both discreet and courteous,' he replied, inclining his head to her. She nodded, and just to tweak her, he added then, 'Until I have reason not to be.'

She scowled. Whatever retort she might have made him was interrupted, however. One of her cooks opened the door and called her name.

'Scram,' she told them, flicking her fingers at Duo. 'Half-eight.' The door slammed shut behind her.

Duo let out an abrupt laugh. 'She's still a spit-fire, huh.'

'More than a little.' Wufei chewed his lower lip before he caught himself at it, and hid his mouth behind his hand. 'Why do you call her Tom Sawyer?'

'Don't get the reference? Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.' Duo stretched, his sweatshirt riding up. 'We were always at each other, pick-pick-pick, but she's a good kid. Then she married this douchebag named Bill or Bob or Ben something, Ben Sawyer--'

'Ah, she's married.'

Now it was Duo who seemed frozen in a sharp glare. Wufei retraced his mental steps, wondering what he'd said; he coloured when he realised. 'I didn't mean it like that,' he said hastily.

'Why shouldn't you?' Duo shrugged, a jagged up-down motion of his shoulders. 'She's cute. She's always been cute. Anyway, she's divorced.'

'I didn't-- Duo.'

'What do I care?' Duo hopped off the edge of the loading dock onto the street below. 'I'm going back to the hotel. You don't have much longer to wait. If I'm gone when you get back, don't wait up.'

'Damn,' Wufei said.


	4. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Keawe said, 'I want a damn good reason why you brought Duo Maxwell back to L2.'_

'You didn't observe anything unusual lately?' Wufei asked for the seventh time. It was the kind of innocuous question all Preventers were trained to ask, unalarming but suggestive enough that respondents could, as Une liked to say, 'fill their own blanks'. Wufei had never particularly found that it worked.

The server who stared-- blankly-- at him lifted his shoulders. 'Like... what do you mean?' the young man asked.

'Unusual tension between your frequent customers,' Wufei supplied patiently. 'Arguments. People missing their reservations. New members of groups that are usually closed.'

'I don't know about that.' He began to shift on his feet. Wufei noticed it, but wasn't sure if it was boredom or a guilty conscience. 'I guess maybe some of the legislators have been upset about the big vote coming up in the Parliament. They talk about it a lot.'

'Anything unusual?' Wufei repeated.

'I don't know.'

Wufei kept his sigh internal. It had been, also as Une liked to say, a fishing expedition, and a rather blind one, since Duo had surprised him with the opportunity. The staff were proving particularly impervious to interrogation, however. He didn't believe they could really be quite as stupid as some of them chose to appear, but stupidity did have the benefit of an indifference to whispered conversations, and that might indeed be a quality to be desired in a sensitive environment.

'Oh,' the young man said suddenly, looking up from the napkins he was folding. 'You know, now that you mention it, I did see something kind of odd. Senator Milchect stopped coming by about a month ago.'

'She was a regular customer?'

'Like clockwork, every other day except Sundays. Always ordered the same thing, too, oatmeal with walnuts, rye toast, chef's special Glamorgan sausages-- those are vegetarian. They've got bread in them, cheddar cheese, egg-- real egg, of course, fresh I mean-- and they've got leeks, and the marjoram we grow special in back, and mustard--'

'The Senator,' Wufei interrupted. 'She stopped coming?'

'Yeah, about a month ago. I thought at first maybe she just started going someplace else, but I ran into her secretary-- her secretary always eats here too, up at the bar-- and Jonah said-- well, I wasn't to tell what he said.'

'I'll keep your name out of it,' Wufei promised solemnly.

'I guess so,' the server answered dubiously. Wufei made a point of fidgeting his badge at his belt, and the boy's eyes dropped to it. 'I asked after the Senator, and Jonah said I wasn't to spread it around, but that she'd been really ill. She thought at first it was food poisoning, which of course it wasn't.' He summoned a pompously overdone expression of indignation. Wufei gravely nodded his agreement. 'Not from here. But then Jonah said anyway she could barely keep anything down after a week and that she'd gone to her doctor finally and was getting all sorts of tests run, but that it doesn't look good. She barely gets out of bed.'

It qualified as odd, all right. It was also the first really pertinent tidbit he'd gleaned, though he wasn't entirely sure what instinct it twigged in him. The connection was not quite there. But he put Milchect in his mind as someone to be remembered. Maybe Duo would have something to contribute.

'Am I done?' the server asked then. 'I need to get more napkins.'

'Yes, you're done. Thank you.' Wufei produced another of his business cards and passed it between them. 'If you remember anything else, please let me know. I can be reached at any hour by that number.'

'Sure thing. Good luck with-- whatever.'

Wufei turned to follow the boy's progress, and saw the woman Tom Sawyer at the bar, leaning on her elbows and watching him. 'Hello,' Wufei said cautiously.

'Hello.' She waved him near, and he crossed the floor. He selected a stool not quite in front of her and eased onto it. 'Any help?' she asked him.

'They're good at their jobs,' Wufei replied. 'They turn a deaf ear to the right information.'

'They're paid to. I'm sorry, though.' She had a very level gaze, though even when he sat he was taller than her; and though she was quite slim, even delicate, she radiated such strength that he didn't notice it until he truly looked at her. 'I'm sorry I was rude to you earlier,' she told him then. 'I was surprised.'

'I should apologise as well. I've allowed Duo to lead me by the nose. I ought to have imagined it would produce some uncomfortable moments.'

'Those are Duo's specialty,' she said dryly. She straightened crisply. 'Would you like a cup of tea? You can ask me your questions, too. I don't go by the tables as much as the servers do, but I hear enough.'

'Thank you. Yes, that would be helpful.' She didn't have to return to the kitchen, filling a small pot from a spigot at the bar and arranging a small tray in front of him. Wufei poured a cup for each of them, when she supplied two of the little ceramic mugs, and nudged it toward her. 'But first, may I ask you something personal?'

'You can ask.' Her mouth curved. 'I won't promise to answer.'

He found himself smiling. 'Understood.' He turned the mug carefully between his palms until the handle faced him. 'Why didn't you want Duo to speak to your staff, but it was all right if I did?'

'That's not at all what I expected you to say.' She pulled a stool from behind the edge of the bar and sat opposite him. 'I guess the easy answer is that I knew what you'd want to know, and I knew what he'd want to know, and... and I guess... I guess it came down to suspecting him.'

Wufei filled his own blank. 'Because of what he did.'

'The hell of it is I absolutely understand why he thought he was doing the right thing.' She added creamer to her tea, and a modest sprinkling of sugar, but her hands obviously moved independent of her thoughts. A faint frown line appeared between her black eyebrows. 'We used to call it patriotism, when you loved your home that much. I don't know when it became too dangerous to be so innocent.'

'Long before we were born, I think.' He sipped his tea. It was finer than what he'd been served at breakfast, which had already been better than the standard restaurant serving, and he was flattered. It kept him silent for a moment, long enough to re-direct his thoughts to the professional. 'He was a friend, though. Once.'

'He's still a friend, I guess. He saved my life once. Saved more than my life. It's hard to cut a man who would do that for you out of your heart, even if it would be smarter to.' She toasted him and drank. 'Well. Your real questions. The first thing to tell you would be that the crowd in here have been edgier than normal lately.'

'Some of your staff mentioned that. And that Senator Milchect has quietly come down with an illness.'

'It won't be quiet forever. I sent a couple of hampers to her-- we've cultivated that kind of relationship with our regulars-- and her secretary finally contacted me to ask for a specific menu. Broth, breads, that kind of thing, and to be sent through her personal security. I asked why the special considerations, if there was anything we could do, and he let slip that they were worried about a deliberate poisoning.'

'Poisoning.' It would broadly fit her symptoms. 'Who has she offended?'

'My personal opinion? It's a scare tactic.'

'Scare tactic.' This surprised him. 'Why--'

'Because of the vote on Section VI.' Whatever response she wanted from him, she apparently didn't get, because she shook her head with a little noise of impatience. 'Maybe it's not a big deal on Earth, but in the Colonies Section VI is as close as it gets to life or death in politics. The news barely covers anything else.'

'Section VI is an economic stimulus package.'

'With very real potential to upend the Colonial industrial base. If we lose Section VI, you can kiss all manufacturing good-bye in three, four years tops. Even the big conglomerates are lobbying their pockets empty trying to buy votes. When Quatre Winner testified in front of Parliament last week they ran it live on every channel here.'

They had missed the broadcast, involved in their debriefing, and then they'd been Space-bound on the shuttle flight. Wufei hadn't even remembered it would be on air. 'So which way has Milchect been leaning on the vote?'

'For, obviously. Roughly eighty percent of employment on L2 and our satellites is directly related to manufacturing. It's about sixty on L4, with all the mining. Then you get into the investment from L1, the loans they've been making to shore us up--' She paused to drink. 'You don't follow any of this?'

'I've never been much interested in politics,' he confessed. 'I suppose I do seem under-educated.'

Her teeth showed this time in her brief grin. 'Like I said, on Earth it's probably all academic. But up here, this is people's livelihoods. We just barely got on our feet after the Federation and the war dried us up, and now Parliament talks about punishing us by taking away what little we've managed to build for ourselves. Oh, they don't say punishment, but that's what it is. We didn't magically blossom like Earth did after the war. But we didn't have the resources, and no-one was willing to sell them, either. It's been a tough life in Space.'

'I suspect I'm speaking to a believer,' Wufei murmured.

His joke fell flat. Her eyes turned down quickly, a faint flush darkening her cheeks. 'Not like that. But it's my life too, isn't it? I never would have had this place without loans, and the only reason it stays open is because people can afford to waste a little extra money. If the bottom falls out of our economy, I'll close, and there goes my entire world. I'm not young enough or dumb enough to try and start over a third time.'

'Third time?'

'I had a scrap business before I started the restaurant. We did all right, but Huckleberry's heart was never in it, and...'

'Huckleberry. Duo?' A certain piece fell into place, then. 'He mentioned the nickname. He was your partner?'

'It was a completely different time.' She swiped her hand through the air, half angry, he thought, but her eyes stayed low. 'We were so young. I was, anyway. I was so convinced he was righteous and good and-- perfect, I guess. Signed over the entire business to me, too, so I could start the restaurant with a good boost for the rough times, wouldn't even hear of me paying him back. I was a little in love with him then.'

Wufei pressed his lips together, letting that wash over him. He set his fingers against the bar, near her hand, not quite touching her skin. 'We all make... mistakes, in our judgment. But I think he was all those things, once. He may even still be, if you believe in relativity.'

'Do you?' she asked.

He dropped his own eyes, then, to look into his tea. 'No,' he replied. 'I don't.'

 

**

 

As he stepped onto the pavement and buttoned his coat against the chill colonial air, his mobile began to vibrate. He checked the number and set it between shoulder and ear, waving his free hand to catch the attention of a taxi. 'Chang,' he announced himself.

_'Maquinna. You need to come up-town.'_

'Now?' A driver had seen him and was making a 'U' in the street to get to his side. Wufei toed the curb. 'What's wrong?'

_'Your partner's been catching some notice.'_

'Then my partner is the one you need to call, not me.' The taxi halted before him, and Wufei tugged open the door to slide inside. He covered the mouth of his phone to tell the driver the name of his hotel. They began to move again immediately. 'I've things to do. I'd rather not waste my time explaining whatever it is you think needs explaining.'

_'Not me. And you can leave Maxwell in a deep dark hole for this one. Come alone.'_

Wufei had never once heard those two words attendant on a good surprise. 'I'll be there in twenty minutes,' he said, and punched the 'off' button with ill humour. He leant over the rocking cab to knock on the driver's plastic window. 'Excuse me. Please change course to 1278 Mandela Avenue.'

His suspicion only deepened when he arrived at Preventers Plaza. The lobby guard let him through without comment, only passing him a Visitor ID that was clearly waiting for him. He was joined in the lift by two young officers who seemed to find him familiar; they both sneaked glances, but when he met their eyes they faced rigidly forward with faint blushes. They exited on a different floor than he did.

Maquinna met him at his storey, peremptorily gesturing him to stay. Instead, Maquinna stepped into the lift, and selected the basement parking garage as their destination. 'We're heading in for the Sukhon Peace Heroes Centre.'

'Why?' Wufei demanded bluntly. The much taller agent wore a charged, frowning stare today, tapping his fingers rapidly against the handle of the case he carried. Wufei warmed his hands in his coat pockets. 'Who are we going to see?'

'His name is Bren Keawe. He's the senior Commons representative for Prince George's Satellite.'

He knew that name. He'd heard it just this morning, watching the six o'clock news clips. 'He's also on the Business and Enterprise Committee, yes?' he said. 'They say he's particularly vehement in support of the--'

'What?'

They arrived at the basement, but Wufei barely noticed; the things Tom Sawyer had told him earlier were meeting up suddenly with this new information. Maquinna waited impatiently for him, so Wufei set his feet in motion, but his mind was racing toward a conclusion he hoped was wholly coherent. 'They said he's all but declared war on the Parliament if they don't pass Section VI,' he voiced.

'That's right. He caught a lot of flak for that.' Maquinna pulled keys from his pocket and used the remote start to fire an engine in the long queue of black company cars that sat facing the lift. 'Big mouth, he's got, but he doesn't walk small. I heard he personally threatened the Secretary of Finance.' Maquinna turned flat eyes on him. 'And if he'll go that far with a superior, he'll more than ruin you, Chang, so watch you answer his questions in a polite tone and keep him calm. I've heard a thing or two about your reputation. They call you a General-baiter, you know.'

Wufei was irritated with that. 'I don't deliberately step on toes.'

'But you don't play politics, and you make it known.' Maquinna had to hunch his great height to sit behind the wheel, but there seemed no question of Wufei driving. Wufei took the passenger seat and buckled the safety belt. Maquinna entered their destination in the GPS log, his large fingers tripping on the little buttons so that he often had to backtrack his progress. 'And I'm telling you, play them today. Even when he insults you and insults Preventers-- and he will. Keawe's a big name around here and it won't be long before he's a big name everywhere. They're saying he's a hot contender for President in the next election. So keep your temper in control.'

'I won't embarrass you,' Wufei muttered, but his sarcasm was lost on Cloudwalker. They rolled laboriously around the tight garage corners and then burst up a ramp into the daylight. The GPS began to speak out directions, but Maquinna knew the route, and plunged them aggressively into the morning traffic.

Wufei too felt strangely energised. Since they'd come to L2-- since before that even, from that moment of seeing Duo's face again after seven years, really, Wufei had been passive to fate. He had let Duo lead him, he had let Une lead him-- let chance lead him. He'd been passive because it had seemed to be the solid core of his amorphous role in this drama, to follow, to observe. Even Duo had said it-- learn to look. But at his own core Wufei had never been passive. He chose his path, and where there were no choices he fought for his own freedom. He could be led only as long as he chose to be. It was time to walk alone, and he had the means to do it now. Duo had fed him clues, and Tom Sawyer had given him more, but it was his mind that pulled them into pattern and found the sense in them.

The cartels and the gangs were one level of it all, but there was more happening in the unorganised populace of L2 than could be explained by that. Culture war, they'd used to call it, in his grandmother's day. The rise of militarism had been matched by the philosophy of Pacifism, until the Alliance had eliminated all the opposition leaders: Heero Yuy in the Colonies, the outspoken King Adolphus of Sanq who styled himself a Peace-crafter. But there had been no true leader in the Alliance, no great voice of unification, and there had been only chaotic blunders and ever-harsher enforcement of the military regime until Treize Khushrenada had emerged with his philosophy of the human progress of history, and balance had been restored. Voices of opposition could speak once again under Treize; in fact to his death Treize himself had been a voice of opposition even when he held more power than any single man had in all time. There was something elemental in that, something key, and Wufei had responded to it emotionally as a teenager long before he had come to understand it as an adult. Though he would never be entirely reconciled to the role Treize had chosen him to play, he had learnt to be honoured by it, knowing that Treize had seen something worthy in him.

L2 hadn't learnt that lesson yet.

Duo hadn't.

It was all there, if Wufei just pulled himself back far enough to see it. Culture war. When the citizens felt disenfranchised, when they felt their voice being drowned out in the din, it was as Tom Sawyer had told him-- there was fear. When there was fear there was no room for philosophy. It wasn't until a leader emerged who had the strength of mind to image a new possibility that the ragged ends could be woven back together. Duo was many things, but he wasn't that leader. He hadn't failed in his attempted revolution before because his methods had been faulty; he'd failed because his only goal had been to tear something down, not replace it with something better. Now someone was trying to do the same thing, an absolute repeat of Duo's failure. And though he had no proof, nothing even approaching proof, Wufei would have given his right hand in the bet that Bren Keawe was about to take the lead.

He felt alert and ready as Maquinna drove them into the Heroes Centre.

This time they were met by a small crowd of people; a wrinkled old woman with steel grey hair who informed them the MP would see them immediately, a young page who had new visitor passes for them, and a middle-aged man in a uniform Wufei took to be Chief of Police. But the Chief was just bypassing them, scowling deeply as he strode for the large SUV that opened for him. Wufei turned to watch him board it. It roared off too fast, and had to brake hard for the electric gate. Then it was gone, spilling out onto the road and disappearing.

'Please keep up, Agent Scarab,' the old woman admonished him. 'Mr Keawe is on a tight schedule today.'

'Of course,' Wufei answered. 'Forgive my inattention.'

Maquinna eyed him mistrustfully. Wufei met his gaze blandly.

Bren Keawe's office was large enough for three men of considerable ego, and Wufei felt satisfied at one guess being confirmed. The furniture was lush and large, a mix of claret-red leather and black oak. The windows wore thick brocade, and the walls were artfully dotted with certificates, glossy photographs, mounted memorabilia of the political career. Of the man himself, Wufei saw the image first-- a large flat-screen set in a corner running footage of the same speech Wufei had seen early that morning. Wufei was distracted with listening to it more closely than he had the first time, when Keawe finally caught them up, emerging from a side door and making soundless progress over the thick carpet.

'Agents,' Keawe greeted them briefly, pressing their hands one after the other. His grip was powerful, and Wufei had to flex his fingers after. 'Sit down,' Keawe added, and dragged a chair around to face the deep-cushioned sofa. Maquinna chose a spot, and Wufei sat a polite distance from him, crossing his ankles and laying one arm over the edge of the couch. Keawe took a pose mirroring his.

'Gentlemen,' Keawe said then, 'Preventers has been fucking me around, and I'm here to tell you to stop the shit before something breaks.'

'Sir,' Cloudwalker answered gruffly. 'With all due respect, I think it's possible you're-- some of the reaction to this may be-- out of proportion with the problem.'

So Maquinna was serious about the pussy-footing. Wufei was quick to take offence at the hypocrisy of politicians, and the tone had made him bristle-- but Keawe met his anger with a hard flat stare that both egged him on and dared him to retort. Keawe was a slim, toned man not much older than Wufei, his skin nut-brown and his sleek short hair swept back from a high forehead. But what grabbed Wufei's notice was his clothing. He wore a gold wristwatch worth a month of Wufei's salary, but his suit didn't quite fit him at the shoulders or wrists, which meant it was off the rack, not tailored, and his shoes were just as inexpensive, scuffed and dirty to boot. The look didn't match the grandiose office, not at all, and Wufei frowned over the puzzle of it.

Keawe took his expression for conversation. 'I want to know why the Intelligence Committee wasn't notified when Preventers brought new operatives on the colony.'

'We're not required to notify anyone about changes to personnel,' Wufei said. 'Our internal activity is as private as yours.'

'Not when your "personnel" start making contacts of their own.' Keawe stood and circled his desk. He opened the top drawer with a push-button key guard. Wufei glanced sideways at Maquinna for any hints, but his fellow agent was blank-faced.

'This was sitting on my desk this morning,' Keawe said, lifting a plain mailing envelope from the drawer. 'It got past the front gate, the guards, and my secretary.' He tossed the envelope onto the low rosewood table at Wufei's knees. 'Delivered by a man who signed the security register as Tyden Miller.'

Wufei tensed. He beat Maquinna's grab for the envelope. It clinked. He upended it over his palm, and three bullets dropped free.

He recognised them instantly. They were the bullets Duo had pulled out of the car at the scene of the gang massacre.

No wonder the Chief of Police had looked so dour, if Keawe had shown him these.

Keawe knew the direction of hsi thoughts. 'Chief Talbot had nothing to say about where those might have come from. Nor did he have anything to say about the photographs.'

Photographs. Wufei slid them from the envelope. Duo hadn't taken these, couldn't have; Duo didn't have a camera and Duo had been with him for nearly twelve hours immediately after they'd discovered the scene. There were only generic development marks on the back of the photo paper, not even an indication where they might have been developed. But they showed the scene exactly as he remembered it, in all its gory detail. The teenaged boy who had died against the side of teh car, the two girls still seated inside framed by shattered, blood-stained windows, their heads lolling at awkward angles. Four were slumped together where they'd been standing as a group, a girl's hair beads sprawled across the cracked pavement.

The last picture had a blurred figure in it that was not a dead gang member. He held the photograph to the light, but it wouldn't resolve. Just a person, standing-- no, bending over one of the bodies. Hands to its face.

Weeping. It must have been a mother or father. Like whoever had taken the photographs, hoping proof would lead to justice.

'In addition to his staggering ignorance about this incident,' Keawe continued, 'Talbot also couldn't tell me anything substantive about Tyden Miller. So I had my security team pull the surveillance footage from my office. If you'll take a look at that screen, I'm happy to show you what it revealed.'

Wufei would rather have done anything else. Cloudwalker had been more right than he knew. What they were going to see on that scene really did guarantee the end of his career. When it got back to Une that he'd been letting Duo wander the colony without supervision, and that DUo had gone so far as to break into a Member of Parliament's office to hand over evidence Wufei hadn't shared with the local HQ, hadn't even actually remembered Duo had taken-- he truly felt a little weak-chested.

Keawe touched a remote control, and the speech playing on the television was replaced by a slightly static-shot feed from an angle somewhere above the desk-- there, Wufei thought it was probably the small figurine of the early shuttles that had taken the first colonists into Space. On the screen, the door opened, and bold as brass came in a figure wrapped in a dirty jacket, not even looking anxiously about him.

Keawe paused it as the man turned to leave, and the camera caught a full side-ways view of the face. Not even hidden by a hat. The braid was in full profile.

Keawe said, 'I want a damn good reason why you brought Duo Maxwell back to L2.'

Maquinna stood abruptly. 'I think we're done here. I'll be sending a crew for the video and for a forensic sweep of the building.'

'Not without a subpoena!'

'Then we'll have one within the hour. I know I can trust a man of your stature and integrity not to fiddle with the crime scene.'

Keawe flushed darkly. Wufei cut off the impending explosion by rising as well, and making a show of returning the photographs and bullets to the folder. He let them go willingly, knowing Duo had withheld at least one cartridge from his delivery, and knowing as well that Duo probably had copies of the pictures, if not a greater selection. Keawe snatched the envelope from his hand when he extended it.

'If you have any further questions, sir,' he said, and took the last of his business cards from his wallet. 'Please call.'

The man stared at him, livid, a flush of fury darkening his cheeks. 'You have some nerve, Agent.'

'No, sir. I have a duty.' Wufei inclined his head. He exited the office with Maquinna at his back. When he heard the door shut securely behind them and Keawe's secretary sat at her desk straining to eavesdrop without giving the appearance of doing so, he cut Maquinna's opening breath short with a slash of his hand.

'Not here, and not now,' he murmured. 'I have to go. I'll catch you up later. I assume you can handle the forensic team.'

Maquinna glared at him. Not for nothing. It wasn't only the Chief of Police who was implicated by Duo's evidence. They had told Maquinna, who had not believed them. And Maquinna didn't look like a man who easily forgave humiliation.

'Later,' Wufei repeated, and ducked out into the hall. He knew he ought to wait, to worry about the surveillance system, but he made it no further than the privacy of the lift before he had his phone at his ear, dialling the hotel.

'Room 513,' he told the operator, before she had even finished greeting him. 'Now.'

She transferred him immediately. Wufei stared blindly at the mirrored walls of the lift car as it began to drop the floors.

It rang. Wufei let it ring over and over. Ten times, twelve, fourteen. No answer.

 

**

 

By sheer chance he met Duo walking into the lobby of their hotel, carrying a six-pack of the protein drinks he liked.

He grabbed Duo by the arm hard enough that Duo squawked at him, but he closed his ear to all protests, shoving Duo through the glass lobby doors and hustling him past the desk. Duo wore a hooded sweatshirt, the same he'd had on at breakfast, and it occurred to Wufei suddenly that Duo had worn the hood up all through their meal and he hadn't so much as looked askance at the oddity. He ought to have. He burned with equal parts fury and shame. He'd been willfully blind to what he'd assumed were eccentricities, giving Duo lead on the leash because of their history together. No longer.

When he threw Duo through the door into their room, Duo fetched up against the wall in the half-bath, a wary, close-lipped expression warring with the lazy slump he performed. 'What bee's got up in your bonnet?' he slurred.

'You son of a bitch.' He hadn't been so infuriated in-- years. He ripped the Rescues out of Duo's hand and threw them, not caring where they landed. He heard them clatter to the floor in tinny clatter, but he'd already taken a fist to the grey hood and ripped at that, too, jerking Duo's head on his shoulders. 'Why even bother with the disguise now? For whose benefit? Did you think I'd appreciate the effort?'

'Back off before I feel the need to make you,' Duo said, low-voiced. His eyes were small points of banked temper, but the clenched hands at his sides were white-knuckled.

Wufei took no heed. 'Do you know what you've done? I could be sacked for this! I should be. They should cut me off without even the shuttle fare home. I can't believe I trusted you, I can't believe I accepted your judgment, your intuition, your _word_. The word of a criminal! The word of a traitor!'

'I did it for you!' Duo did move then, hitting him hard in the shoulders with the heels of his palms, rocking him back before he caught himself. 'I did it for you, you arrogant--'

'For me?' Disbelief robbed him of balance as much as Duo's physical attack. 'The hell you did. You did it because this is “your place”, your venn, because you've been abundantly clear you feel the right to it.'

'I saw how you felt about it. I'm not lying, Wufei! I saw how it hurt you to see it, all the dead kids, and it made me feel badly for being so jaded that it didn't bother me like that. And when Cloudwalker shut you down about it I just thought if I could make someone really see it, if I could make those kids matter, that would be something, wouldn't it? Something real and--' Duo clamped down tight on whatever else might have followed. His eyes fell to the floor, but then they were up again, hard and hurt, of all things, hurt. 'Keawe will make the police look into it, and if it really was the police who did it, he'll find out and he'll crusade on it all the way to Parliament. He'll make those kids matter.'

Oh, that was a good ploy. He wanted to believe it. Duo certainly looked sincere, didn't he, that injury just shining behind the brave front, but Duo had hardly been shy of manipulating him, and how could you draw a line then? Trust this much but no farther? Trust nothing at all, that was the only choice, and Duo knew and still pushed, still chipped at his armour.

'For me.' He inhaled, a deep lungsful. 'Your gifts have sharp edges, Duo.'

'I didn't think about it making you look bad.' Duo sneered, then. 'Of course I didn't think about you being such a career-minded toady, either. Gunning for a promotion?'

'Gunning to have a career at all!'

'They won't fire you. They knew who I was when they brought me here. They won't punish you for me.' Duo leant toward him. Wufei refused to back down, so it went like that, Duo near to him, dangerously close with a more than vague air of threat tainting the air like a taste. 'So yes or no, Wufei.'

'Yes or no what.'

'Forgive me and let it go or admit you can't. Admit it.'

'Oh, not this again.' He pushed Duo back by stepping forward, cramming him against the wallpaper with only inches between them. 'I thought you'd already decided I've forgiven you.'

A flicker of uncertainty. It certainly seemed real. Duo's pulse even jumped, his breath quickened.

'Why does it matter?' Wufei pressed him. 'Because I'm just a familiar face? Because you want someone to approve of you? Like you, love you?'

'You never loved me.' Duo's hand curved to his inseam before Wufei knocked him away. 'We fucked. Meeting in dark corners, that one particularly special time alone in the humvee in Lebanon. Did you ever even tell anyone? No, stupid me, of course you didn't. You're not even gay.'

'Damn it.' He caught Duo by the wrist again at the second touch, pinned Duo's hand high to the wall beside them. 'You're going to hold that over me until we're dead.'

'It's not my fault you're a fucking coward.' The sneer was back, turning Duo's mouth ugly as it twisted. 'A coward about fucking.'

'I could never be like you.' It was a mark of the weight of all that history they had together that it only fluttered at the edge of the consciousness, how ridiculous it was to be duking this out now, when there were real problems he needed to concentrate on, real disasters just outside the door. 'I could never be like you,' he repeated, softer now, to force the words out. 'Letting the entire world see who you really are. Demanding they see you.'

Duo's head tipped back, exposing his white throat. 'Not this tired old rag.'

'You don't--'

'No, _you_ don't.' Duo shoved him again, or tried, restrained as he was. 'No-one was going to think less of you. No-one cares who you sleep with. And even if they did I'm not an embarrassment, and I hated how you treated me like I was. It wasn't just sex.'

'It was. There were no commitments. We talked about that, we agreed.'

'You agreed with yourself. And you have the nerve to show up with Sally at the Preventers Ball--'

'She was just a friend.'

'You went home with her! Tell me again you're not gay. Tell me again you're not sure. Tell me again that I was just a friend, too, and it didn't mean anything, I didn't mean anything, just another notch on your bedpost!'

'I never kept score that way.' He felt the red, the heat suffuse his face. 'I didn't sleep with Sally. You know I didn't.'

'Then why'd you break it off with me? What did I do wrong?'

'You... nothing.' He let go of Duo's arm. It stayed there, a moment longer, almost as if Duo had wanted that connection. Impossible. Impossible, like Duo was impossible, too hot and cold, too hungry for answers, too demanding. Too everything. 'Is there anything at all quiet in you?'

Duo pressed their mouths together. Wufei saw it coming, but he was strangely frozen, so Duo was able to do it. The kiss lingered, when he let it happen, and it was soft, though he didn't mistake it for tenderness. Just-- quiet.

'Seven years in prison it took,' Duo murmured, his breath warm on Wufei's cheek. 'But maybe that's what it needed, to make me something you'd want.'

'I wanted you.' He licked his lips on reflex. 'I still do. You know that.'

'What the hell do I know about you at all? I thought I knew you'd want justice for those kids. So fuck me, right? Turns out I don't know anything at all.'

'Is that what you want?'

'What, justice?'

'For me to fuck you again.'

Duo's jaw clenched. 'Fuck you,' he hissed, and this time when he pushed, he pushed out and past Wufei. Wufei tried to catch at his shirt, though Duo shook him off; but he felt wet at Duo's waist, and all thoughts of their argument fled instantly.

'You're bleeding.'

'It's fine.'

'You shouldn't still be bleeding.' They had a little wrestling match, Duo ducking and twisting, but Wufei was riding still the adrenaline of the past two hours, and he won. He had Duo back up to the wall again, this time facing their beds, and he wrenched Duo's sweatshirt high to stare at the seeping wound in Duo's belly. It was open again, and the edges were red and inflamed. 'It's infected.'

'Why do you even care?'

'Don't make me muzzle you.' He stared down at Duo's belly without any clear idea what to do. They couldn't go to hospital now, not with people starting to realise who Duo was. Lonny was out of the question, it was Lonny who'd done this shoddy work to start. 'Antibiotics.'

'I already got some. I wasn't going to tell you.' Duo pulled his hand to his mouth, his head turning away. It was muffled, but it was unmistakably a cough, a wet cough.

'The hell.'

'The hell,' Duo echoed raspily. 'Let it go.'

'I need a minute,' Wufei said then. 'If you take one step out of this room I'll shoot you myself. Be here when I get back.'

Duo's mock salute almost brought a shout to his throat. He held it in with just the force of his will. He left Duo where he was standing, and made sure the door latched behind him.

 

He walked for about an hour, first for the physical jolt to stoke his anger, and then for the slow burn of letting it go. The day felt a million years long already, and wasn't yet half over. It was only a little after noon. It hardly felt possible. He would have given his own arm for nightfall. The idea almost consumed him once it hit-- a real nightfall, an Earthly nightfall, dusk and twilight as the sun set, oranges melting into the deep watercolour blues, stars gleaming like eyes opening and winking shut. The smell of river water, clean and startling. Real wind, cool wind, like whispers against the cheek.

He walked the only directions he really knew, not wanting to get lost. He walked to the monument in North Square, the huge interlocked marbles that were fashioned like links of a chain coiled on the grass. There were monks making a sand mandala, surrounded on all sides by respectful crowds of all ages; Wufei did not stay to watch. He passed a few scattered buildings of the new University, colonnaded artworks of brick and bronze where students lingered on the broad stairs as if they truly were sheltered from the world. Wufei had never been like that, though he might have been, once, if war had not intervened. And of course on L2 there were the churches, famous for being the meeting houses of the Resistance, though Duo had never--

That brought him up short. Duo had never voluntarily walked into a church anywhere. He had refused even to go to weddings, no matter how brides had railed at him; Relena had refused to speak to him for months, until Quatre had finally intervened and made Duo apologise. Duo and churches. He supposed they all had their-- triggers, and anyone with the internet and a search engine could find Duo's with hardly any trouble. But Duo was so obstinate about it all, acting one moment as if the trauma were barely worth mentioning, the very second later as if he might run if anyone said too much.

Lonny had been at the church before him, Duo said. An orphan at the Maxwell Church, who had been adopted out, perhaps, or gone into one of the trade programmes or maybe even into the military, when Alliance or OZ began recruiting. L2 had supplied entire battalions for OZ, just young people eager for a meal and a paying job. But not Duo. Not Duo, with his finely tuned morality, his instinctive predatory way of pouncing on your doubts, your honest questions, without even opening his mouth. It was the vulnerability, those glimpses he let you have. Or let you think you'd had.

I did it for you.

Oh, Wufei was quite sure he had. And quite sure Duo had known exactly who would be blamed. Duo could be a jealous bastard. The left hand was selfless while the right sharpened the knife.

Except-- all his resentment and indignation washed in the face of one fact. Duo would go back to prison. Duo knew it. He'd been told it twice in every sentence before Preventers had even sent a shuttle to him. And he'd never tried to escape, never run, never led so much as a food fight in the cafeteria to rebel against his incarceration. Duo had accepted his sentence because he knew he'd earned it. He wasn't fighting it now. Whatever he was doing, whatever trouble was the by-product of his adventures, he wasn't doing it to-- take revenge, to scrape for deals or promises or even to find himself allies who might beg on his behalf.

Maybe it was unfair, to blame Duo for Wufei's stupidity, and never give him credit for having his own moments of idiocy. Maybe Duo really hadn't thought. Maybe Duo had just had an impulse, had wanted his-- attention. Approval. Thanks.

He stood leaning on a city directory for another hour, lost in his own frustrated musings, increasingly depressed. It wasn't until he'd had to wave three buses along that it finally occurred to him to move to a less conspicuous spot. He glanced at the directory to see where he'd walked himself. He'd gone all the way through up-town, an entirely different quad than where he'd left from, where Duo, he hoped, still was. It was time to stop indulging his temper and his self-pity and think of a solution.

Solution. He read the directory twice before the words registered.

He was only feet away from the solution.

 

He couldn't swipe his keycard without setting down his package, and in the midst of trying Duo finally heard him and opened the door anyway. Duo stepped back so Wufei could pass him, but he looked curiously at the large bags Wufei carried inside. 'What's all that? You didn't meet with Cloudwalker again?'

'Cloudwalker? No.' Though he would have to. Preventers would be poring over Keawe's office now. Learning nothing more than what that security tape had already told them. Pretending to do something to buy time to think of what there might actually be to do. Wufei set his bags on the nearest bed, his own, and pointed Duo at the other double. 'Lay down.'

'What?' Duo flipped the lock on the door and paused a cautious distance in the half-bath. 'Why?'

Wufei unpacked his purchases, eight four-ounce glass cups, perfectly round with thick lips at their openings, a large packet of incense, long strips of waxed bamboo, and a second bag of plastic pill bottles and paper-wrapped packets of herbs.

'You know that torture's illegal in the Colonies?' Duo said.

'Don't be stupid. I told you to lay down.'

'Are you still pissed at me?'

'Yes,' Wufei answered, 'but since that seems to be the foundation of our relationship, I suppose it doesn't worry me.'

Duo quirked a surprised smile. Then, with a shake of his head, he went to his bed and stretched out exactly as he'd been told.

'Take off your sweater,' Wufei told him. He carried the cups in two trips to Duo's bed, arranging them four on one side of Duo's body and four on the other. He set a stick of incense to balance on the edge of the endtable and seared the edge with a butane lighter until it began to smoke. 'Lay on your stomach.'

'Hens lay,' Duo retorted, and obeyed him. 'People lie.'

'Shut up,' Wufei instructed shortly. 'I know you've had acupuncture before. This is no different.'

'Acupuncture? Is that what this is?'

'It's called fire cupping.' He was ready. ' _Lay_ your head down.'

Duo eyed him suspiciously over his shoulder; but then with a little shrug he seemed to give up. He curled his arms under his head and relaxed into position. He even managed to be silent.

Wufei wasted no time wondering how long Duo would comply. He crawled Duo's body and settled sitting just behind his buttocks, centring his own weight before opening the bottle of baby oil. He rubbed a viscous handful onto Duo's back, massaging it into the muscles, the shoulders, the slope of his spine. His hands looked very dark against Duo's pale skin. When his hands were nearly dry again, he wiped them on the underside of the duvet and lit the bamboo wicks. He didn't have the balance or the working surface to worry with the rubbing alcohol, though it would have been quicker, so he abandoned it, instead simply inverting the first cup over the flame to heat the air inside it. When the glass began to warm against the pads of his fingers, he set it quickly to the bare skin of Duo's back, midway between the spine and the far edge of his ribcage. Duo inhaled sharply, in surprise or protest against the heat, Wufei couldn't know. But he stayed very still, and the suction was solid and held.

'Where'd you learn this?' Duo asked him. He sounded subdued, but his face was buried in the pillow.

'When I was young I was curious about it. I wanted to be a doctor.' He set the wicks between his lips momentarily, ignoring the little fire so close to his mouth. He spread a smaller handful of the baby oil over Duo's back where dry skin had already soaked in the first layer. The second cup sealed to Duo's muscle even more smoothly than the first had.

'Doctors go to medical school,' Duo said.

'Like Lonny?' He began to make columns of the cups, each cup about four inches from the one before it. It went swiftly as he regained confidence in the procedure, his hands deftly remembering what he hadn't done in nearly twenty years. 'I wanted to learn,' he said. 'I liked how it ordered the universe. I liked the simplicity.'

'You would.' Duo shifted very carefully. 'It feels kind of funny.'

'It's supposed to. They'll only stay on for a little longer.'

'I'll be spotty.'

'Wear a shirt.' He set the last cup alongside Duo's spine, and with the last of his wicks he sealed two more between Duo's shoulder blades. 'Stay still. I'll make up your tea.'

'There's tea with this? Where the hell did you go while you were gone?'

'Lay still.' He slid off Duo's legs and dumped the rest of his bag onto the bedspread. 'Any man who'd buy black market antibiotics can swallow a cup of tea without knowing what's in it.'

Despite his admonitions Duo's head turned toward him, necessitating that Wufei reach to be sure the braid did not displace the cups. 'Tell me anyway,' Duo murmured, looking up at him.

'Why?'

'You can't yell at me for being contrary and then be contrary.'

Wufei rubbed his eyes. Their room was too dark for this, and he was getting a headache from the intensity of his concentration. But after the insecurities of the long morning, that fury he'd felt earlier leaving him drained, there was almost a pleasant relief in Duo's reversion to this gentle teasing. He knew better now than to count on it, or even to truly believe in it, but he could appreciate it, and be grateful.

'Duanwood reishi,' he said, shaking the loose capsules to the duvet. 'For the stagnation in liver Qi, to activate blood circulation, relieve pain.'

'I don't feel pain.' Duo's fingers retracted, closing tight into a fist. 'That's the point, isn't it? I won't ever feel pain as long as the implant's in my head. I told you it was working.'

'I know. But just because you don't feel the pain doesn't mean it's not real. The implant just--'

'Releases endorphins.' Duo turned his face away, and Wufei caught his braid again. 'Serotonin. I know.' He drew a deep breath. The cups on his back wavered just a little with the expansion of his ribcage, then settled again. 'What's stagnation in the liver?'

'Of the liver Qi.' Wufei broke open the capsules to shake out the powder contents, and funneled the duanwood into the bag of achyranthes, dang gui, ligusticum, and white Peony root. He shook the bag carefully to mix them.

'There were more. What else is there?'

He hadn't been sure Duo still wanted him to explain; he'd lapsed into silence as he worked. He had to clear his throat. 'Deer antler drops. To reinforce... to reinforce the kidney Yang, tonify Yin Jing, the blood. Yunnan Paiyo.'

'What's that one do?'

'Arrest hemorrhage. Stanch bleeding, activate blood circulation, disperse clots. It should stop inflammation, too, counteract toxins.'

'Why don't I just take that one then?'

'Because the human body isn't as simple as a chain reaction. It's more like--' He tested one of the cups, but it sat firmly. 'More like a little universe, made up of complete but interconnected systems. All of it works together. You were stabbed. It's not just a wound to one part of you, muscle or skin or tissue. It affects the Qi, your breath, your blood, your spirit.'

'I think I saw an anime about that once.'

'That's Japan. I don't know what those savages believe.'

'Kampō,' Duo said. 'They practise Kampō. I'm not completely ignorant.'

'If you say so.' He saw the ghost of Duo's grin, leaning over him by chance. 'How do you feel right now?'

'My chest feels a little clearer.'

'I'll reset them in a moment. I want to start the tea first.'

'You didn't finish telling me about it.'

He sighed. 'Pearl Shen, for the willpower. It tonifies Yin Jing and Qi, stabilies Shen, opens the Central Channel.'

Duo's eyes had gone to lazy drooping lids with a glimmer of white beneath them, staring at their curtained windows. 'In English?'

'It will keep you centred during stress, relieve anxiety and worry and fear and anger. Exhaustion.' It would break habits, too; addicts used it to overcome their weaknesses. Whatever that implant was doing, it was stopping Duo from being able to interpret his own body. The Duo he knew might well have ignored a stab wound, but wouldn't have waited days to find antibiotics if he thought there were complications. He didn't know if the herbs would interfere with the implant, and didn't know if he would get in trouble for trying to make them, but it was time to start doing things, not just reacting to what others did, and this was as good a start as any. He rose to plug in their little electric kettle, and made three tea bags out of the batch of herbs he'd prepared. He waited until he could pour the boiling water, and left the first bag to steep when he went back to the bed.

This time Duo was almost sleepy, more deeply and honestly relaxed than when he'd been simply forcing himself to unclench. His back was red from the suction when Wufei slipped the cups free, and felt tender and slick to the touch. When Wufei reset five of the cups at his shoulders, he actually yawned. He thought he'd have to wake Duo to take them off, but Duo opened his eyes at the first touch of Wufei's finger, slipping under the rim of the cup and popping it free. He didn't move much to take the mug of tea when Wufei brought it, but folded the pillow under to prop his head up.

'Tastes shitty,' he commented, but went on sipping, so Wufei let it pass, cleaning up the mess of ashes and scattered powder. 'How many more times do we have to do this?'

'Until it helps.'

Duo made a little face. He rolled to his side to check his stomach. His blood had made a little dot on the cotton gauze, but it wasn't getting worse. 'This isn't how I saw it going, when I was imagining it.'

Wufei hadn't imagined they wouldn't talk about their fight, though he'd allowed himself a little vain hope. 'How did you see it going?'

Duo looked up at him. 'You really hate me, for what I did.'

He had to turn his eyes away, afraid of what Duo would see in his face, of how Duo would react. 'You should stay relaxed as long as possible.'

'You see me getting riled up?'

No, that was true. Quiet. He didn't remember now which one of them had used that word first. Why it mattered. Why he even wanted it, because there was just as much being said in the silence. He binned the trash he held, but then his hands felt empty. When he glanced up, it was to the large mirror over the sinks, impersonally reflecting his drawn face.

He heard Duo's exhale, the clink of the mug being set on the endtable. 'Come to bed,' Duo said softly. 'It won't mean anything except that we're both human after all. Once in a while.'

He had a moment, then, when he really knew he wouldn't be going home the same man he'd been a week ago.

He had a moment after that where he wondered if it really mattered. A moment where it terrified him.

But he'd never really been scared of anything. And he knew more than most about how to carry regrets.

'No,' he answered, no voice above a whisper. 'This is a low moment for me. Don't take advantage.'

'What am I taking advantage of? You said you feel it too.' Then Duo made a throaty noise, and when Wufei glanced he saw Duo lay again facing the window, not him. 'You know,' Duo said then. 'I always knew, right from the beginning. I knew I was more invested in it than you. I knew I felt more than you did. And I told myself, right from that very first time, eyes open, Maxwell. You know it going in. You don't get to be surprised or hurt when he ends it, because he will. So I guess it really must feel like I'm taking advantage. You always hated giving me any little smidgen you didn't have to.'

Oh, he was weary. And he would have to go out soon, Duo would have to go out soon, back to their roles, and he might never know if he could trust Duo or not, but he was tired of asking the question.

Duo started when Wufei's weight bent the mattress, looking over his shoulder. He froze when Wufei slid bare arms around him, and lay beside him, naked chest to Duo's naked back.

'What are you doing?' Duo whispered.

'This is what you want from me. Not sex.' This was what Duo couldn't get on that asteroid prison, alone in Space with people he could never-- never trust not to take advantage of a weakness. It made them even, he thought, in some fundamental way, but he didn't say this. He just held Duo, let Duo have what was easier for him to give than sex would have been, glad that it gave Duo more while taking less from him. Duo was stiff for a long time, his muscles hard and his arms tense as boards.

Wufei knew from the way Duo breathed that he was crying. He didn't say this, either. It left him ashamed, but he didn't regret it. He let his foot settle touching Duo's ankle, and Duo exhaled hard.

It took hours, but he waited until Duo was asleep to go.


	5. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Duo said, 'Listen to me. I'm telling you, it's not going to go away. It's going to come to a head, and if it doesn't happen this time it will be next time, or the time after that, but one day this is going to be a real war again, because the things that are wrong here are never going to be fixed by any solution that comes in a shuttle from Earth.'_

When he finally managed to slip away and return to the hotel, it was well past midnight. The skeleton-crew night clerk didn't so much as look up from his newspaper as Wufei trudged past. He had to wait a full minute for the lift to arrive, and nearly fell asleep leaning against the mirrored wall on the ride upward to his floor. He did no more than shed his shoes in the doorway. He dragged back his duvet and fell face-down atop the sheets. He was asleep instantly.

He woke abruptly with only the sense that it was hours later, and that there was a sliver of light from somewhere falling over his face. The bath. He managed to roll onto his back, batting at the clock until it turned to him. Past four.

The door opened, and Duo slipped out, soundless on bare feet. 'Sorry,' Duo whispered. 'Just needed to clean up. Go back to sleep.'

He still felt fuzzy, his mind refusing to truly wake up and relinquish precious down-time. 'Nà dāng rán.'

Duo's laugh was oddly airless. 'Go back to sleep. When you wake up, speak English, okay?'

It seemed he'd meant to do something, say something, when Duo went to the swath of darkness that was the other bed. Something about Duo lying alone all that way away.

He couldn't remember, though, and ultimately it wasn't enough of a mystery to keep him awake.

 

 

'Have you contacted Command?' Wufei asked.

Maquinna was hard-jawed. 'Yes,' he said shortly. 'You've been ordered to check in whenever convenient.'

ASAP, that meant. 'If I might use your office?'

'Take your time.' Cloudwalker vacated his chair and picked up the dossier he was reading. 'Just so you know, I've got a forensic team working on the scene of this supposed massacre. And they aren't turning anything up.'

'They will.'

Cloudwalker's gaze was unforgiving. No quarter would be given there, and no help, either. One more enemy to add to a long list, Wufei thought listlessly. When the door shut behind Maquinna and the little red security light lit once more, Wufei took his seat and keyed in the connection for Preventers Plaza on Earth.

He had to wait for it, of course; Preventers technology was top of the line, but it couldn't defy the laws of physics, and it just took a certain amount of time for a radio signal to penetrate the ether. It was time enough to think of inconsequential things-- that he had skipped lunch and wasn't likely to get dinner-- that Duo might be awake by now, bound to the room by strict orders and base threats and probably bored out of his mind waiting for Wufei to get back. Wufei wished-- wished--

Perhaps there wasn't anything for either of them to say. But his hands felt cold until he thought of Duo.

He didn't admit anything. Not yet.

The click of a satisfactory connection alerted him in time to look up from his fingernails. It was Une's secretary, and she patched him through without comment or even confirmation, against protocol. The time signature in the corner of his screen increased by two minutes before Une answered, and when she did, he was treated to a view of a room full of his superiors-- almost the Command Council. Une sat central and head of the oval table, facing Wufei; to her left was Quatre, his old friend and sometime confidant, at her right Lucrezia Noin, who was most certainly not his friend. Yet all their faces were grave, like all those of the other Councilmen, solemn and unwelcoming.

'Agent Chang,' Wufei introduced himself shortly. 'Reporting in for Case N 09-46.'

 _'Thank you, Agent.'_ Une folded her hands across the smooth olive wood of the table. She was a carefully composed picture, in her dress uniform. Quatre shifted, too, and Wufei was momentarily distracted by it, before his eyes locked on a clue he might have missed entirely, if Quatre had not sneakily caught his attention.

Quatre's badge was upside down.

Danger. Proceed with caution.

 _'Progress?'_ Une asked him.

'Yes.' Wufei returned his eyes to her slowly, his mind curiously blank and calm, not churning with questions. 'Our informant has been very successful in his early encounters with civilians. He's uncovered civil unrest originating with the street gangs, which he believes is being prompted, if not directed, by the cartels. Additionally, I have observed significant manoeuvring at the political level surrounding the Parliamentary vote on Section VI.'

_'Go on.'_

'I intended to investigate a possible poisoning motivated by voter intimidation, when I was-- detained by a request from a Mr Bren Keawe--'

 _'We're sufficiently informed about Keawe,'_ said General Blancato. He mispronounced Keawe's name. _'What I want to know is whether or not, Agent, you knew Maxwell had broke in there to deliver that envelope.'_

They were to it, then. Wufei looked at that upside-down badge on Quatre's chest, Quatre's bland and unrevealing expression above it, and he lied through his teeth. 'When it became clear to me that local authorities were failing to react to an action I myself had witnessed, I sent Maxwell to prod a local official capable of inciting a reaction.'

Une's mouth turned down. _'I see two very large problems with your unauthorised movement, Agent.'_

'The implied criticism of local Preventers, and my involvement with a civilian authority.'

_'Very much so.'_

Maquinna was already done cooperating, so Wufei did what Une was edging him toward and threw the other man under the wheels to save himself. 'Regarding the first, it was simply too much posturing,' he said bluntly. 'The local agents resented my presence. They may not have looked the other way forever, but it was clear to me that there would be no effort to substantiate my claims about the massacre.'

 _'Stay away from that word, Mister,'_ Frazer interrupted.

 _'I disagree,'_ Noin rejoined immediately. _'We call a spade a spade. Twenty dead teenagers is a massacre, any way you slice it. It's unthinkable to me that the locals didn't investigate immediately-- or at least attempt to verify it through their own resources on the ground.'_

'Cloudwalker's sent along the images,' Wufei replied courteously. 'We've turned up three civilian reports of gunfire, all subsequently revoked. Why would no-one talk if there were no reason to keep silent? Surely the dead belong to parents, grandparents. There is a force at work trying to suppress the incident. At the very least Preventers ought to know who benefits from keeping it quiet.'

Une waved that away, along with the protests of two other Councilmen. _'Returning to the second problem,'_ she said. _'Why approach Keawe? Particularly through Maxwell?'_

Worth a deep breath. He took it silently, his face stony. 'Maxwell was brought onto this mission to serve as a tool. If I fail to use him, he might as well be any snitch. He was capable of slipping in without attracting notice, but he's recognisable, and without him I might have got no more reaction from Keawe than I did from the locals. When the pond is still you see only what's on the surface. I've stirred up the silt. Something may rise to the top, now. If Keawe is dirty, this will prove it. If he has resources we don't, he'll use them and give us the information we need to proceed. If he's useless, I'll find someone else who isn't.'

Very slowly Une nodded. _'All right,'_ she answered slowly. She nodded again, this time sharply. _'Well done, Agent.'_

He did not relax. He'd never in his career been praised by Une. He had no idea what to make of it.

 _'Continue as you have been,'_ she added. _'But check in before you send Maxwell to break into the President's office, if you will?'_

'Of course,' he agreed neutrally. Carte blanche, that was, and apparently retroactive permission to do just as he'd done-- or as he'd said he'd done. Une wasn't stupid enough to believe he'd-- Yet perhaps she'd naturally believed _he_ was smart enough not to let Duo run all over him. It was, after all, why they'd chosen a fellow Gundam Pilot to send with Duo. If there were any loyalty Duo could be expected to honour, it would be that. Any other agent would have never seen the back of Duo after they'd landed.

 _'Very well.'_ Une rose. _'Any further questions for Agent Chang? No? Then we'll let the man get back to work.'_ She inclined her head, and the screen went dark.

He stared at the blank screen, unable to decipher what message he was supposed to have received from that. Une acting strangely was enough to make him cautious; Quatre's coded message put chills up his spine. There had been stageplay in this, not his, and not kindly disposed, but for whom had it been meant? He didn't dare try to contact Quatre separately. Such communications were routinely monitored, and even if Quatre was able to pass him any information, it would surely be heard by undesirable persons. Was there something happening on Earth that affected him here on L2? Or was it what he and Duo did on L2 that affected things on Earth? And how was he going to find out which?

He repeated his speculations to Duo that evening, while he worked on a new round of cupping on Duo's back. Duo lay supine beneath him, indifferent to the suction except when Wufei paused his musing to slide one of the cups. Duo shivered as it triggered some physical reaction.

'The thing making me wonder is Quatre,' Duo confessed then, muffled by his pillow until he moved it away from his cheek. 'So he's been promoted to--'

'Outpost Advisor.'

'Who comes up with Preventer titles, anyway? That makes him sound like a newspaper columnist. So the Outpost Advisor is--'

'It used to be colonial and Deep Space supervision, but when we restructured it became a Council position.'

'So presumably he's as informed as he could be about this mission. But he didn't have anything to say.'

'Just the badge.'

Wufei set the final cup, and reached over Duo's bare back to relight the incense. He tugged at Duo's jeans until they settled loosely at the elastic band of his boxers. His bare skin was marked now from two previous sessions with the cups, round red bruises, but he hadn't coughed since their first session, and Wufei was determined he wouldn't again. He would have to return to the herbalist from whom he'd bought the ingredients for the tea. He might even be able to send a sachet with Duo back to the prison, if--

If. He disliked such naivety in himself.

'Well,' Duo said. 'The badge, you know what it means. Une's for shit. He was sitting right next to her when he did it, and she's the only one who talked really, you said, so it's obviously to do with her. So forget about Quatre and think about what Quatre knows. Who benefits from thinking you're out here doing a bang-up job, when it's really only been a week, and we haven't really accomplished anything yet?'

'I don't involve myself in politics.' Even Maquinna had known that about him. 'I don't even keep track of appointments above the Council. It's all partisan these days.'

'Which is why you should know who butters your bread.' Duo rubbed at his nose, making the cups clink together with the movement of his shoulders. 'Let me think. I want to say it's one of the Noventas who just got the Vice Foreign Ministership, which puts him chair of International Development, and he's on the Defence Committee and Foreign Affairs, obviously. And DCFA are the ones who oversee the Preventers budget. All the Noventas are pretty much cardboard cutouts of each other, so it's safe to say that whichever one he is, he's a progressive. Which means he's probably either associated with the Pacifists or he's in the “humanitarian intervention only” camp. So if--'

'You keep all this in your head?'

'Unlike you, I like politics, and if I hadn't been up to my eyeballs in it, I wouldn't be here now, would I?'

Wufei refused to be nettled by that. He set Duo's tea on the end table to cool. 'Then why didn't you know anything about the Council?'

'No offence, but Preventers are a very tiny slice of the pie, and not one that has a lot of impact outside the war zone.'

That did bother him. It was true, and it was true too that Preventers hadn't been intended to ever impact on every day life, politics or no, even if their sphere of influence had slowly expanded over the years. But Duo's amusement at him implied a condescension about the good and real work Preventers did. 'Setting that aside,' he said only, 'what were you going to say? If whoever Noventa is associated with the Pacifists?'

'Then he's probably looking to cut Preventers' budget to force you to concentrate on hot zones and get your thumbs out of intelligence work. The Constitution isn't very clear who Preventers has to answer to. Noventas aren't alone in wanting that very clarified and very restricted.'

Wufei resumed his seat on Duo's legs to begin removing the cups. He oiled his hands and kneaded Duo's muscles slowly, starting slow to build to a deep-tissue massage. Duo's skin felt warm under his touch, hot where the cups had been. 'So if Une were performing, it would be for someone like that. Someone who needs to see us being effective and decisive.'

'And ahead of the game. I know you were pissed I did it, but bringing in Keawe shakes things up, you gotta admit.'

A politician who didn't need to be bought. Yet. 'You have faith in Keawe, don't you?'

Duo abruptly shifted, turning his head to the other side, bringing his arms up under his chin. 'He's just an up-town stiff. People seem to like him, though.'

'I looked at his record. He was only a borough chief when you were sentenced. You couldn't have known anything about him, then.'

'There's few enough good men on the colony that names get notorious.' Duo couldn't seem to settle. Wufei paused his massage, rather than accidentally contuse a muscle as Duo pulled at it. 'I'm not omniscient,' Duo said grumpily. 'I just keep up with events. The news is old when it gets to us, but it's not like there's much else to keep me occupied, and it's good for Mariemaia.'

He'd almost forgot about Mariemaia, the last time Duo had mentioned her. 'You do teach her, then.'

'Trust me, she doesn't need to learn anything I have to teach her.'

Duo was finally still again. Wufei rubbed slowly at his shoulders, feeling out the lines of tension in his neck. 'But you spend time with her.'

Duo rolled, and Wufei stood up on his knees to prevent himself being rolled right along with the body he sat on. When Duo faced him again, Wufei eased back down onto his thighs.

'She's just a girl,' Duo said. 'Like I'm just a guy. So are you. The only thing that makes any of us more important than anyone else is that we remember to look up, once in a while. Most people don't, you know. It's all about the routine, the job, the family holiday every year, the bonus at New Years, buying a house, a bigger house. Even in the gangs it's all ritual and workaday habit-- who you're fighting now, how to get them, what to do with the spoils. I think it's okay mostly for people to be like that. Maybe that's the way the universe has to work, to keep turning. But if you haven't got people who remember to look up sometimes and make sure it's turning in the right direction, you end up with chaos because no-one was minding the shop. Things like the Federation don't just show up out of the blue. The Federation happened because no-one bothered to stop them until it was past inconvenience and into dangerous. And probably if we could've asked the Feddies, they'd tell us that's how OZ happened, too, just little adjustments to the routine until suddenly they realised they didn't know how Khushrenada had got there, and hadn't realised he'd boxed them in until he opened fire on them. And Cloudwalker, even knowing he's got a problem here, even knowing that he's still got his head so far up his ass he couldn't see the light about what's happening with the underworld here, because it's not part of his routine to care. He still thinks you're just here to peek in and head home once you've congratulated him on doing a good job.'

'Yes,' Wufei agreed slowly. 'That's why he's so angry, not just about my-- your-- going over his head. He thinks it will be as easy to fix as last time. Find a handful of people to arrest, and it will quiet down again.'

'So listen to me now,' Duo said. Very grave he was, like that morning when Wufei had, instinctively sensing something greater than he could truly imagine, warned him against throwing himself too whole-heartedly into L2's maze of loyalties. Very sober and very direct, Duo said, 'Listen to me. I'm telling you, it's not going to go away. It's going to come to a head, and if it doesn't happen this time it will be next time, or the time after that, but one day this is going to be a real war again, because the things that are wrong here are never going to be fixed by any solution that comes in a shuttle from Earth. It has to be born here and it has to be free from the interests of everyone else, even the other colonies. Because in any system there's people on top and people on bottom, and L2 is always going to be the people on the bottom until there's someone strong enough to say we're not going to lie down for it anymore. You hear me?'

He heard every word Duo spoke in a vacuum of silence, as if everything else had dropped away. Then Duo's voice was gone, and he was in his own body again, aware of little noises, smells like the tea and the slight burn of the radiator, the tiny breeze of warm air. He closed his fists just to remember his hands, wet his lips to feel the sensation of it.

'I'm old enough to know all that it means, you know.' He wet his lips again, spread his hands flat on his thighs to look at them. 'To fear war, not welcome it. If it really is inevitable--'

'It is,' Duo said, and then as if he felt something of Wufei's sadness, too, he slid his fingers over Wufei's, a tender pressure. 'And it'll cost too much. It always does. But maybe, just maybe, what comes out the other side will be worth it. Just maybe.'

He felt so inadequate to this task. It was despair that took hold of him then, very sharp and deep, stronger than since he'd been just a boy. But he was a man now, and such storms didn't rage so hard in him now, or so long. It was only a brief thing; and then he shouldered the burden as he had so many others.

'All right,' he said. 'So help me avert it a little while longer.'

'Wufei.'

'No. Tell me what you think we should do next. As my partner, as my guide. Tell me what to do, and we'll do it together.'

Duo's mouth parted in hesitation, but then his fingers twined sweetly with Wufei's. 'Come with me tonight. There's a place I wanted to see again.'

'A personal pilgrimage.'

'Yes. But it might help you understand.'

'To understand what, Duo.' It threatened again, the darkness. Except that Duo stroked his hand, his knuckles, and there was something so earnest in the way he looked up at Wufei.

'When you lost your home, it was over for you, gone,' Duo whispered. 'When I lost mine, it all started. This place, it's worth it, Wufei. And until you understand why anyone would give everything we've given for our home--'

'I know what it is to fight for freedom.'

Duo closed his eyes. His jaw moved; he swallowed. 'Okay,' he said finally. 'All right. Go back to Keawe. Tell him what Cloudwalker's saying, that there's no evidence yet. Tell him you want to start talking to people here. Tell him you want him to come with you when you do. People will listen to him. They might tell him what they wouldn't tell a stranger. And then he'll trust you, because he'll be there hearing it for himself.'

'Yes.'

Duo released his hand, then. 'Time to quit fucking around. I'll go in to see the big bosses. The cartels. They might not admit to anything, but they might drop a few hints.'

'It's too dangerous,' Wufei replied immediately. 'You can't go straight to the bosses.'

'Even the bosses know who Gundam Pilots are. If they're at all connected to the gangs like I think, they'll know I'm on colony. If they're not, my chances of walking out alive are still high. They'll want information as much as anyone else will. You don't randomly kill the messenger.'

'Unless they've got a signal to send in the killing.'

'Maybe. But either way, there's not much more I'm going to hear hanging around the edges. You brought me here to use me. So use me.'

Just as Une had said. Take the big risks. If Duo was willing. Duo was.

'Thank you,' he said.

 

**

 

'So where's Maxwell?' Keawe demanded again.

'Elsewhere,' Wufei answered. Again. He pointed for the driver, but the woman knew the route and was already guiding the vehicle to turn onto St Mary's. 'He's no longer involved in this.'

'Did he decide that, or did you?'

Wufei ignored the snide remark. 'When we talk to the families, allow your instincts to guide your questions. It's unlikely they'll want to speak directly to me-- they won't know I'm a separate entity from the local Preventers branch, and if they planned on talking to Preventers they would have done so by now. I can get them started, but what's important is that they see your presence with me as an affirmation that they can and should tell me what they witnessed.'

'I'm here to make them trust you.' Keawe sipped from his thermos of coffee, his eyes unfocussed-- his thoughts likely razor-sharp. 'And should they?' he asked abruptly.

Wufei turned his own eyes to the window. 'If you didn't believe that, you wouldn't be here now.'

'Don't be so sure. A smart man never turns down information, no matter the source.'

'A smart man turns down questionable intelligence,' Wufei retorted. 'A smart man accepts the truth that there will always be people who wish him misinformed, and he learns how to operate without slipping under their influence, especially voluntarily.'

It occurred to him too late that he ought not remonstrate the man. Keawe had only come with him today on the lure of the very information Wufei now told him was suspect. If he pushed too far, Keawe would be well within his rights to dump Wufei out of the car and let him walk back to a green zone.

So-- 'Forgive me,' Wufei said stiltedly. 'My temper often speaks before my brain.'

To his surprise and relief, Keawe gave a little snort of laughter. 'Don't it always,' he replied. 'I'll try not to take it personal.'

'Yes.' To cover his confusion, Wufei leant to the driver. 'Pull over,' he instructed. 'We'll go on foot from here. A car like this will attract the wrong kind of attention.'

'Dolphin stepping out of vehicle,' the woman reported via her comm unit. She parked carefully beside a long-closed laundromat with a broken window, unbuckled her safety belt. 'Eva-2 to accompany.'

'No, Agent Scarab is plenty bodyguard.' Keawe left his coffee and slid the bench to his side door. 'We'll go alone.'

'Forgive me,' Wufei said again, 'but she's right. She doesn't have to enter homes with us, but you shouldn't be unprotected. Nor should your people allow you to dictate security measures.' He met Keawe's scowl with his mildest expression. 'Important men,' he said, 'must accept the trappings of responsibility.'

'You're one of those terribly wise types, aren't you?' Keawe blew out an impatient breath. 'Fine. Tamara, no further than the door, though.'

He had a list of addresses and names compiled by Cloudwalker's men, but didn't intend to use it except as a general neighbourhood guide. It was likely the entire block had seen the battle in the street, and Wufei would bet his pension they could walk the entire sector and find a witness in every apartment. His approach was no more scientific than to choose the building nearest their car-- word would spread that a Preventer was back, and that he had an Up-Towner with him. By the third apartment, he predicted more cooperation-- people would see it was Bren Keawe, and curiosity would get them their in.

Meanwhile, however, their first and second tries didn't even yield an open door. They were observed through a eye-holes as Wufei called through the battered steel, explaining who they were and being very clear and loud on Keawe's name. But they got an unhelpful 'Go away' at the end of it, and Wufei left it at that. If there was anything to be gleaned from the inhabitants, it could be retrieved later. They climbed the stairs for the next stop, Tamara hovering uneasily on the staircase with her hand on her holstered weapon. Wufei, who carried also both in a shoulder harness and at the ankle, didn't feel her discomfort. There was no air of an immanent attack here. And, he recalled with a certain sadness, no-one left to be their attackers. Anyone who might have threatened had probably died in that massacre. It was the worst thing to find familiar, but he did. Any colonial his age knew what it was to lose a brother, a sister, a parent. But L2 was only at war with itself, now.

For the moment, anyway.

The new apartment opened cautiously to his knock, letting the flickering hall light fall on a round-faced young woman who carried a listless baby on her hip. 'Hello,' Wufei greeted her gravely. 'I'm Agent Scarab. This is Representative Keawe from the House of Commons. Do you have a minute to answer questions?'

Her dark eyes tracked back and forth between the two men, to Tamara on the stairs. 'Already talked to them other cops,' she said sullenly.

'I know you did. It's standard procedure to follow up with a second round of--'

'No, it ain't. Never happened like that before. The Least come crawling all over here once a month and you never see the back of 'em once they gone.'

'Perhaps for the police, Miss, but not the Preventers.'

'Preventers.' Her gaze went keen, then, dropping intensely to the badge Wufei still displayed. She shifted the baby in her thin arms, ignoring its whine. 'Why the Preventers lookin' in on this?'

'Because we know that what happened here wasn't the usual violence between gangs. Was it?' He met her suspicious glare. 'You didn't talk to the Preventers before?'

'They ain't been out here, just the Least.'

'Police,' Keawe murmured to him. 'They earned the nickname, though.'

Wufei didn't doubt it. What he did doubt was Cloudwalker's assertion that his men had combed over the area-- where had they got the list of names, otherwise? Or had someone just printed the street directory? Why cover it up, why lie?

Keawe decided then to take Wufei's advice at its most literal. He stepped forward enough to subtly force Wufei into the subservient flank, hands in his pockets as if it were just an easy conversation between two equals, him in his pin-stripe suit and cufflinks, the girl who glared up at him from a dirty sweatshirt, her skinny legs and limply pressed dark hair. 'So just the Least?' he asked casually. 'Doubt you had two words to say to them-- well, two words I can think of, actually, but not words you'd say in front of your grandma.'

The skin around her eyes crinkled as if she found it funny, but the harsh lines on her young face didn't ease up. 'Words plenty.'

'For what it's worth, I know the feeling. Don't imagine you told 'em much, safe or otherwise. Everyone knows what kind of man joins the Least.'

Her sneer was instantaneous. The baby curved its spine and almost slipped free, and she wrestled him back into place with a firm yank. 'You?' she retorted scornfully. 'They work for you, man. You got nothin' to worry about.'

'But you do. I understand. I used to live in a complex just like this, in New Raetia Sector. You know it? It's on Prince George's satellite.'

'You never lived on PG.' The baby cried, and she shushed it impatiently, staring up at Keawe as if diving the truth out of him. 'I seen you on TV. Posh and dressin' like that, the way you talk--'

'My brother went into Waipahu Crew.' That silenced her. 'We lived in a one-room flat, just like that one,' Keawe told her, nodding over her shoulder at the apartment. 'My momma, my tutu-- my grandmother-- my brother. My dad, he was a drug addict, lived in the street when he got so strung out he forgot the way home. He disappeared after a while and never turned up again, so my brother, Maka, he drops out of school to get a job to support the family. The Least caught him loading stock from the store for the Crew, so he gave up some names trying to save himself from jail. The Crew shot him to death outside the court house. I was your age, then. Swore I'd go to Hell before I gave a single drop of my family's blood to the gangs ever again. Swore I'd go begging right at Parliament itself before I'd ask for a single thing from the Crew.' He touched the baby's down-covered head, let the child take his finger in a tiny fist. 'I bet your story sounds an awful lot the same.'

The girl finally broke their locked eyes, her breath shaking her. 'The Nines never did Malik any damn good. I tole him they was gonna kill him some day, and he got his little girl to think about now--'

'What's her name?'

'Sharisse,' the girl mumbled. 'After me.'

'It's a beautiful name.' Keawe stroked the baby's head, then dropped his hand to cup the girl's elbow. 'Help us understand what happened here, honey. Help us put it right. We can't bring Malik back, but we can stop it happening to Sharisse next.'

When the girl let them in, Wufei thought he understood why Duo had chosen Keawe. Instinctive cynicism wanted to deny the power of Keawe's leadership, deride it as a charismatic personality inclined toward manipulation-- but it had certainly got them in the door, and it would get them into the door after that, and the door after that. That was real enough for Wufei.

 _'Then you did well?'_ Quatre asked him that evening as he made his report. Wufei nodded his agreement, but Quatre was already marking assent on the notepad he carried, sending electronic messages to the case report that occupied the lower corner of Wufei's screen. _'Tell me.'_

'As we had supposed. I have seventeen confirmed witnesses who all knew their youth were involved in the Lambeth Nines, the gang for that block. The Nines were being approached by representatives of unknown origin, but many believed they were Up-Towners-- not the foreign agents, but colonials. The youth were given gifts, money. Caches of weaponry. Ten of the witnesses report that last week the gang members were agitated, convening at strange hours, spending more time in the street, and all were armed. A couple of schoolchildren were harassed last Wednesday. On Saturday two of the members, a girl named Delyia Jones and a young man named Malik Conklin, both told younger siblings to barricade their doors and stay inside the following morning. Both were given to understand there was going to be an altercation between the Nines and a rival gang.'

_'Which occurred on schedule.'_

'Maybe. I don't have confirmation yet, but I believe the rival gang was white. Duo and I were approached by a member of the LC Brights the day the massacre occurred; the Brights are another black gang. It suggests to me that there may be an attempt to stir racial tensions.'

_'An attempt by whom? The police, as Duo suggested?'_

'Not if they're only puppets being manipulated by another force. They may well be a part of it, but my understanding is that they're not particularly self-motivated. Every witness from Sunday maintains it was the police who came, driving armoured police vehicles, from which they fired on the Nines. Whether they were guided by or in partnership with this rival white gang, I don't know. Keawe says such alliances are absolutely unknown. Anathema, actually.'

Quatre tapped the tip of his stylus on his desk. _'What's Duo say?'_ he asked then.

Wufei lifted his shoulders in a shrug. 'Duo believes it's an extension of acrimony between the cartels. If that's so, a racial undertone would be more logical. The police force as a whole don't represent any particular demographic other than middle-class.'

_'What are you doing to pursue the involvement of the cartels?'_

This, Quatre wouldn't like. Whoever was listening on Quatre's end would like it even less, whether or not Une kept her authority at Wufei's back. But Wufei couldn't do anything about such considerations, any more than he could account for the possibility that Cloudwalker had ways of recording even secured communications. Realistically, there was no such thing as a secure communication, not even in the age of neural network technology. It was still frustrating.

'I sent Duo to make contacts with the cartels,' he said. 'I sent him alone and I expect him back in the morning with a preliminary report.'

Quatre's eyes went wide. Quatre was a savvy, intelligent man, but his capacity to express his inherent innocence often surprised Wufei, who had been raised with the philosophy that innocence was attained, not inborn. Yet Quatre was unquestionably sincere. _'You don't think that endangers him unnecessarily?'_ Quatre demanded.

'He suggested it himself,' Wufei answered coolly. 'He is dedicated to our goals. To his credit.'

 _'I'm not questioning your professional judgment.'_ Quatre rubbed at the vee above his lip for the space of three breaths. _'I question whether it's safe for him to approach them, being who he is. A representative of the Preventers, at least, when our relationship with the cartels is sheerly self-serving on both sides. I worry-- I fear that in presenting himself to them even as an accidental ally they'll take it as an indication we mean to break with them, the better to accuse them of fomenting civil war. And they wouldn't be far wrong, Wufei, I--'_

'I know,' he interrupted. 'I'm not so stupid I didn't think of it. I assessed the risk, he assessed the risk, and we both concluded that the only way to move is forward. And frankly, if you or the Council had concerns, it was your duty to send me into the field better informed than you did.'

 _'I agree.'_ It was delivered with a certain flat retaliation; Quatre was hard-jawed now, as Wufei himself was. Then Quatre rubbed at his eyes and tossed his stylus to the desk. _'I agree, for whatever it's worth, which is quite little around here. I made the argument that it ought to be me going with Duo. I was turned down.'_

'You.' He was surprised. Shocked, actually. Quatre was not, had never been, a field man. And he'd had no indication there was any-- difficulty surrounding his assignment. If he couldn't be informed even of internal manoeuvring, how was he to even--? But there were no answers other than that such things happened in every level of human society, even in organisations meant to rise above such petty egos.

Quatre wore a little sardonic smile now. _'It's nothing to do with your suitability. It was well before your name ever came up. I will tell you candidly there were factions who believed it was dangerous to give Duo access to too much intel. I will tell you also that when it was determined we would go through with this, and in the manner that we did, they-- we--'_

'What.' He looked at his friend, so far distant, entangling him deeper in something Wufei himself began to fear. 'I didn't know you felt so strongly about him.'

 _'I feel strongly about both of you, Chang Wufei.'_ Quatre exhaled gently. _'What do you think of Keawe?'_ he asked then.

Wufei glanced at the door. It was late and the local Preventers branch was very nearly empty. A cleaner dragged a hoover down the corridor outside Maquinna's office, but saw him inside and thoughtfully took her work to the opposite end of the hall. Quatre waited him out, the stylus playing between his fingers.

'I think he has the potential to make a difference here,' Wufei said finally. 'If he survives the usual political scandals. He had power over the people we talked to. People who would never cast a ballot let him in their homes. Told him intimate secrets.'

_'There's talk he'd be a good candidate for President in the next election. Young, energetic, passionate.'_

'They can't change that he's colonial, though, and Keawe won't pretend to be otherwise.' Wufei looked to the hall again, but even Cloudwalker had left at seven, and if there were listening devices in his office, and Wufei believed Cloudwalker was intelligent enough to place them for his own benefit at least, there was nothing Wufei could do about it. Nor could he do anything about whoever was listening on Quatre's end. Still, it made him suspicious of any invitation to speak his mind. He'd never been able to resist that opportunity.

 _'It's time we had a colonial President. We can hardly gad about representing the entire Sphere if all of Space can only claim twelve MPs.'_ Quatre let his hand drop. _'And Duo? How is he?'_

He hedged his answer, purely to avoid trouble. 'As well as can be expected.'

_'And you, Wufei? How is it with you?'_

He couldn't quite think of an answer. After a few moments, Quatre smiled again, and didn't press him.

 _'Tell him hello for me,'_ his friend said. _'And be careful. Both of you.'_

'We will.'

_'You'll report to me from now forward. At your discretion, but try to keep me up to date. Your case is my top priority.'_

'Understood.' Quatre nodded, reached to sign off, but Wufei's mouth made its own decision to keep speaking. 'Quatre--'

_'Yes?'_

'I've heard your name raised. For the Presidency.'

 _'That old rag.'_ Quatre cocked his head. _'Would I have your vote?'_

'I'd have to hear your position on Section VI.'

He'd been teasing. But Quatre's chin came up, cautious suddenly. It was a long minute between that and the return of the little grin.

 _'Good night, Wufei,'_ Quatre said, and cut their connection.

 

**

 

They were watering the trees along the broadways when he returned to his hotel late that night. Young men in workman's coveralls who gave him peaceable nods, just another citizen daring a late-night walk in the still dark air. The solar panels far overhead gave off a silvery sheen and the light caught at motes of dust like stars, twinkling as they fell from that great height. His shoes made damp prints on the pavement, trailing the chlorinated scent from the hoses.

He watched the news for a while, dozed sitting up against the headboard. He made two more bags of Duo's tea and set them ready on the bedside table. The glass cups were neatly lined there already, undisturbed by the morning maid. He stood at the window they'd left covered since first moving in, staring out over the dim expanse of the colony. Only the temples had been tall, on L5. He'd been so shocked by Earth's skyscrapers, the metal monsters that leered over humanity. Sometimes he missed the grace of a low ceiling, forgot himself and ducked through doors built for taller Earth-born men.

He fell asleep at two thinking it would be nice to treat Duo to real eggs, in the morning.

Duo didn't come back, though. Wufei waited as long as he could, but Keawe was expecting to meet him, to travel with him to Fracsun Sector to track down that rival gang. Keawe was not the kind of man who would appreciate a delay-- but he was the kind of man who would take it into his head to go alone and unprotected. At a quarter to nine, Wufei left Duo a note taped to the mirror in the bath. _Take your tea,_ he added, and left the mug on Duo's bed. He tried not to be uneasy.

Keawe, at least, was excited to be on the move again. 'This must be what it's like, to be a real detective,' he told Wufei, the moment Wufei set foot in his office. 'I always thought those cop shows were so full of shit, you know, cause all I knew was the Least, but damn, this is somethin' else.' He grabbed a tie, already knotted, from a hanger behind his desk, and tightened it to his collar. 'Hey, get some coffee before we leave. You drink coffee? Tea?'

'Tea would be welcome, thank you.' It seemed he was in good graces, then. There had been no such hospitable offers yesterday. 'There's no rush, sir. They aren't expecting us.'

'Call me Bren. Just want to get on the road, you know?'

The secretary, who seemed to have means of her own of listening in, appeared at the door with Wufei's tea, served in a pleasant travel mug. Wufei nodded uncomfortable thanks. He wasn't happy with the inappropriate intimacy of given names, particularly since, as an agent conducting an under-cover operation, he couldn't offer his own in return. But Keawe didn't seem to expect he try. There was quick, last-minute fussing with the secretary over signatures on several files, promises to be back in time for the afternoon committee hearing-- 'Section VI again,' Keawe confided, 'fucking never-ending.'

'So it seems,' Wufei replied vaguely. 'Will you be voting here, or travelling to Earth?'

'Earth. I want to look every one of those nancies in the whites before they vote.'

Thinking of his own MP, a fish-eyed woman who had come up from Beijing's law university to her current post, Wufei didn't doubt Keawe would be plenty intimidating.

'All right,' Keawe said. 'Let's get going. Aimee, call Tamara so she can come protect me. Agent, after you.'

The trek to Fracsun Sector was considerable, and Keawe spent half of it on his PDA in conference calls or reviewing research forwarded by his staff. Wufei, who had rather imagined politicians spent their time in massage parlours letting the unelected do the hard work, was grudgingly impressed. But at last Keawe turned it off and stowed it in a coat pocket, and turned on the bench to face Wufei.

'Let me ask you something, Agent,' Keawe said.

Wufei tensed his shoulders, pure physical reaction to perceived negativity. He finished his tea with a final sip and set the mug carefully in the arm holder. 'I'll answer, if I can.'

Keawe cracked a small smile. 'Nicely avoided. I want to know more about Maxwell. Why he's here again.'

Keawe had come out on a limb for Preventers, and been helpful so far. Wufei gave a cautious inch in return. 'For better or worse, Duo Maxwell is an expert on L2. It would have made no sense to pass him over solely because of-- past misdeeds.'

'And yet you yourself reminded me that there will always be individuals who want us misguided and misinformed. You don't think Maxwell is one of them?'

'I think he's trustworthy to a point. His aim was never the destruction of his colony-- to the contrary.'

'Still, I think it's damn risky. I don't think you entirely understand what he means to people here.'

He was beginning to. The way they knew him. The ambivalence even from old friends. L2 wasn't sure of its prodigal son, yet, but they were taking notice.

Keawe crossed ankles and settled deep into his seat. 'I was twenty-one when I first heard of Gundams. The news orgs those days were all controlled by the Feddies, so no-one really paid it mind, but I remember the day exactly. They were saying that new advanced mobile suits from Space had ambushed the Doves at New Edwards on Earth. Outraged, of course, cause it was supposed to be some tragic thing, but here-- first time I ever saw my tutu like that. Her and Old Bolt from next door, they're in the hall together, hugging each other, calling down blessings on the Gundams. Got those fuckin' Feddies, got 'em, bless you, babies, bless you, 'aumakua. They were calling it a lanakila-- victory. Didn't matter to them it was the Doves. What did the Doves ever actually do for us? Nothing. Who cared about some vote somewhere? Feddies are Feddies and we'd never be free of 'em until enough of 'em were dead.'

Wufei listened in silence, trying to deaden any visible reaction. Keawe could not know Wufei, too, was a Gundam Pilot; could not imagine what Wufei had known or felt that day twenty years ago when Heero Yuy had eliminated the Doves with such brutal efficiency. The Wufei of 195 had seen only the terrible mistake; the Wufei of today saw the long road of war that mistake had created, perhaps inevitably. He understood Keawe's dismissal of the potential peace the Doves had represented, though. Even without a Treize Khushrenada, it might have been years, even decades, before the Doves could have reached treaties with the colonies, and even then it seemed unlikely the relationship would be between equals. But it hadn't been a victory. It had been the first of many failures in that long year of terrible battles and losses.

'And Maxwell,' Keawe said. Wufei swam from his own thoughts to focus on Keawe's round brown face, soft with memory. 'When they captured him and dragged him back to the colonies-- he was just a kid. Just a little shrimp of a kid, and here we'd all been thinking he was some-- undefeatable giant. What a hero he was. They played all these videos of him, questioning him, torturing him on public broadcast like that. There were vigils in the street for him here. Everyone with candles if they had 'em, or their hand torch, or just showing up. It came out they thought he was from L2-- you'd never seen anyone so proud of a native son. Hero.'

'He was,' Wufei echoed softly.

'I used to dream about meeting him.' Keawe flashed white teeth at him. 'Freeing him from prison, actually, and running off with him to join the Rebellion. But I had my family to look after. I was the only one bringing in money by then. Except for Old Bolt, making these crazy Gundam emblems, you know, these silly little commemorative prints or doilies or whatever with Maxwell and the Gundam on them. Then White Fang came around recruiting all of us-- with those same tired things, just like what Old Bolt was selling on the front steps.'

'You were White Fang?'

'For a grand total of two months. Figured out real fast they didn't know their ass from their elbow. They bought into that idiot, the Peacecraft prince-- a fucking prince, man, and an Earther at that? No fucking thank you. Excuse my language, but I'd never seen such a stupid setup. To this day I can't believe it.'

Duo had said exactly the same thing. No wonder there was mutual admiration there. They were cut from the same cloth.

'Me goin' on, and you're sitting there probably about to tell me your dad fought with the Feds or Oz or something.'

'No.' Wufei fixed a crooked edge of his sleeve. 'No, my clan were colonial.'

'Clan. L5?'

'Yes,' he said stiffly.

'I'm sorry.' Keawe's mouth twisted; he fell to staring out the windscreen. 'But you get it, then,' he added abruptly. 'What the feeling is. This is my god-damn home. My history. My pride. I'm not letting this place go down while I can still draw breath.'

'Yes,' he said. 'I understand you exactly.'

'So. What do you think we're going to find out here?'

Wufei was glad to return to a safe topic. 'I'd hope for the same welcome as yesterday, but we're not dealing with people who've suffered a tragedy. Expect some intimidation. They won't want us there asking questions. I think it very likely we won't get a real admission there was an alliance with the police. The best we can do is build a circumstantial case. Get someone to blab about the war between the two gangs, see who's boasting kills.'

'That should be easy enough. All we have to do is drive around looking at the grafitti. They use it to send coded--'

'Coded messages, yes. I've brought a camera in case. But I'd still be happier to collect a few names.'

'Okay. Names.' Keawe's PDA beeped for his attention; he checked it and turned it back into its pocket. 'You think the parents are still a good bet?'

'Assuming they're easy to find. They might know some of the background, if not particulars. I have the study file Preventers have compiled on current activity. It's not conclusive, but it gives us the names of individuals recently in and out of prison, and where they've been paroled. I'd like to track a few of them down. The ones who've done any kind of time are the ones most likely to shoot their mouths off.'

'Yeah, I remember that. Okay.' Keawe rubbed his palms together. 'I've been thinking about how to handle this, once we can prove it's happened. We're going to need the bodies, Agent.'

Wufei was surprised. 'We're in trouble, then. You heard the same stories I did. Even the ones who admitted they lost a child in the massacre would have had to deal with it the usual way. There's no forensic evidence in ashes.'

'But we need proof these kids existed. The police are guilty sons of bitches, but they're not completely stupid. They'll erase life files. Birth certificates, rap sheets, fingerprints-- it's all disappeared on L2 before.'

He reluctantly acknowledged the sense in that precaution. 'I'll call in warrants to halt final disposition in the likeliest mortuaries.'

'How much opposition are you facing from Cloudwalker?'

'Even if I were, Mr Keawe, I wouldn't reveal insider information.'

Keawe was hard-eyed. But then he laughed it off. 'Fair enough. Well, we're almost there. Looks familiar, doesn't it?'

Not to Wufei. But it gave truth to the stories Keawe had told these past two days. Maybe all the colony looked like this, away from the capital. Who could fix it? Could it even be done?

'Tamara,' Keawe called, and the driver's head turned back to them. Keawe grinned into the mirror. 'You have my permission to protect the hell out of us, please. Getting mugged would really drag my day down.'

In the end, though, getting mugged was the only thing that didn't happen. Compared to the success of the day before, their adventure into Fracsun was a blatant flop. It at least supported Wufei's notion of racial politicking: both he and Keawe, with their Asian features, earned catcalls and even outright threats from the young white men who littered the streets in B Quad. The thought that Duo might have resembled them a lifetime ago-- might have been them-- didn't particularly incline Wufei to sympathy, however. They were all slim, aggressive boys, their caps worn backward or their hair spiked and dyed bright colours, their overlarge hand-me-downs masquerading as an impoverished version of baggy up-towner fashion. Many peeled back their shirts to show guns shoved into loose waistbands, shouting dares after them and cursing them when they only walked past. Tamara was on edge, and the longer they were there the more Wufei found himself walking with a hand near his own weapon.

They had no luck at all with the families of the recently paroled gang members. Two of the addresses they tracked down had been vacated. One looked to have exploded from the inside; it was nothing but a burnt husk, all three levels abandoned. The families they did find were reluctant to speak, even when Keawe trotted out the charm. They found a few of the gang members themselves, but they ran when they realised they were being questioned. Wufei began to wonder if he might have done better in his uniform, assuming he could have safely walked the street in it. The air was sour here with violence. Even after the weary misery of Phoebus Sector, Wufei realised how high his expectations had actually been. There was a meanness and a hard acknowledgment of death, here.

Eventually Keawe pulled the plug. 'I need to start back,' he said. 'I've got the afternoon vote. Shit, man.'

'I'm sorry.' His own enthusiasm had considerably waned, but Keawe actually sagged. 'I'll come back alone tomorrow. It may be more profitable to carry a badge.'

'Don't take it wrong, but that's kind of walking into the lion's den as Daniel's cousin Fred.'

'What?'

Keawe waved it off. 'Take a big gun, friend. That's my advice.'

 

**

 

Duo was gone for a week.

Wufei spent the time slowly going crazy. There was no note. No word left with the front desk. On the fourth day he canvassed the colony morgues, every one of them, for Duo Maxwell. The fifth day he asked for John Does.

Keawe kept asking questions about Duo, calling to follow up on the investigation. Cloudwalker called, wanting to know the same. Duo didn't call, though Wufei spent hours staring at the phone, willing it to ring.

Irresponsible was the least he called himself. He nearly reported three times to Quatre that he'd lost his charge. He nearly went wandering the streets on foot on the chance he might run into Duo. He had nightmares. He'd sent Duo to his death, and it was only a matter of time before a body turned up, like those discarded children in the street, riddled with bullets.

The seventh day began with a dawn call. To his mobile. It woke him from a nervous sleep on Duo's bed. He threw the duvet from the bed trying to unearth it from the sheeting, crammed it to his ear just as his eyes registered the crack of light from the window.

 _'Come downstairs,'_ said a strange, accented voice. _'Get into the limo there.'_

'Who are you?' he demanded. His heart pounded frantically as he rolled from the bed, shoving his feet into his boots and grabbing his shirt from the floor. 'Answer me!'

_'Do as you're told, Preventer. Now.'_

The line disconnected. Wufei shoved it into a pocket and threw the door open, streaking for the stairs.


	6. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _' It looks a hell of a lot like he's testing the limits, Agent, and frankly I don't think he's found them yet.'_

Wufei pulled his shirt on as he approached the black Rolls Royce limo parked at the kerb. He overlapped the halves and shoved them into his waistband. The heavy-browed driver opened the door for him, and he ducked a meaty arm that gestured him forward.

Fool, his frantic heartbeat told him. Fool, now ever so slightly dizzy with adrenaline and anticipation, half naked, unarmed except for the .22 in his ankle holster. If he disappeared, there would never be a witness as to where.

The dim light inside the cab illuminated eyes turning toward him. Wufei slid across a slick leather bench, settling carefully in the centre of it. Across plush carpet and a standing bar of glistening crystal sat three men. The one on the right was larger even than the driver, creaking in a huge leather coat, glowering at Wufei's entrance. The one on the left was older, perhaps sixty, silver-haired and suited in a very fine cashmere. The leader, clearly. He puffed on an outlawed cigar, the little point of golden glow casting fire on a face that spoke of hardened criminality. Wufei saw this only briefly, however. His eyes were all for Duo, seated between them.

They'd beaten him. Blood that was still wet coated him from nose to chin; split lips matched bruised wrists tied with wire. His eyes were purpled and swollen behind the straggling hairs of his fringe. The cigar didn't quite cover the smell of burnt flesh.

'Who are you?' Wufei said.

'You already know.' There was an immigrant tinge to the man's L2 accent. He put the cigar in a crystal ashtray and lifted a snifter from the bar. 'Drink?'

'No.' Duo's eyes drifted closed. Wufei clenched and released his fists, until his fingers tingled. 'Why have you done this?'

'Why did you send him to us?' the man retorted. 'A Gundam Pilot? Preventers send assassins, now?'

It confirmed his suspicions. The accent could be Armenian, which could make him one of the Sevans, the drug-runners. If this man was not the head of a cartel, he was one of the top associates at least. Associates who had a reputation for brutality even in a brutal profession, associates who had left mountains of dead for the smallest offences. Not even war suppressed cartels. Not even plague. They thrived on paranoia.

And survived because they took no chances and left no enemies standing, even theoretically. 'No assassins,' Wufei answered slowly. 'If you had bothered to ask him before you tortured him--'

'If he had come through the correct channels we might have had something to say. You send him to break into our compound, sneaking like a thief--'

'No. Not for harm. To talk.'

'Talk.' The man blew a cloud of smoke from the cigar, liquid sloshing in his glass as he waved it. 'We talk with Preventers often enough as it is. This one isn't a Preventer.'

'He works for us.'

'As a spy.'

'No.'

'No?' The silent one on Duo's right threw a folder across the bar at Wufei, who caught it automatically. 'Explain this,' said the cigar man.

If he was placed highly enough to know anything about communication with Preventers, he had to be a top associate. The evidence combined with the smoking seemed to suggest he could be Mekhag Abadjian, nephew of the cartel's head, Tashjain. It was a wonder Duo wasn't being returned in a body bag.

He opened the folder. Hand-written memos, notes. Bills. Printed emails. Screen-captures of code-breaking, password hacking, all of which had to be Duo's work-- which meant Duo had probably done exactly as Abadjian said, broken in to ferret out information, not talking at all. Fool, he most certainly was, to believe Duo would--

Photographs.

Dead children from St Mary's Street.

Duo had found his confirmation, before he'd been caught.

'Not a spy.' Wufei closed the folder carefully, wrapped it tight in its elastic. 'Not on you.'

'You lie to my face.' The man dripped the last swallow of alcohol down his throat and returned the snifter to the bar. He puffed once on his cigar. Then he reached for Duo's hand, and pressed the lit butt into Duo's bare wrist.

Duo hissed, his jaws grinding. Wufei could not interrupt even to help him, not with that third gorrilla sitting there with his hand on the bone-handled gun in his belt. It lasted only seconds, though it seemed a hellish hour before it was done. Duo breathed deep and raggedly, sweat tracking his dirty face.

'Yes?' Abadjian said. 'Yes, Gundam?' He gripped Duo by the jaw, casually spitting on him. Duo turned his face away. 'Show him the video,' Abadjian added negligently, and slumped back in his seat to suck on the cigar.

The bodyguard, if that was what he was, unfolded a giant's bulging fist to extend one of the slim new Unicorns, the screen no larger than three square inches. It glowed blue in the dark cab, until the ape-man stabbed a thick finger at the play-back. Wufei hunched forward tensely to look.

It wasn't one video, but several clips edited together. Security cameras tracking Duo through an unnamed building, first no more than a blurred shadow in a stairwell, then a quick glimpse darting to a door. Then, unbelievably, boldly striding down a plush corridor, as if he were in the safety of his own home, or as when he'd broken into Keawe's office. Asking to be taken.

A dark room. Many bodies moving. Whoever held the camera had an unsteady hand. A space cleared, a shaft of light between shadows. The lense focussed in and out on Duo, strapped into a chair. It was always the same scene, predictable because it always worked. Two goons traded hitting him, and there was Abadjian, watching from a corner. A new angle, more light, sometimes whiting out the image--

A sharp cry. Duo's face, straining away. A man bending over him, probing wickedly at Duo's stab wound with a blunt finger. And then a pocket knife extended by someone outside the frame, an elbow going back, a thrust--

_'The hell!'_ someone on the little screen yelled. _'Is he_ coming-- _'_

The camera fumbled to focus. On Duo's crotch, visibly wet.

'He trained to do that?' Abadjian asked Wufei. 'I heard all sort of stories, years back. Experiments. How they made the Gundams stronger than humans. Didn't buy it. Was proud of him, back in the day.' Smoke dribbled from between his lips. 'Didn't believe it til I saw it. Fucking crutch.'

Wufei swallowed with difficulty. 'No,' he said one more time. 'He didn't have it then.'

Abadjian weighed him in the silence of their breathing. 'Get out,' he answered finally. 'Take him with you. If I see him again, I'll have him sent back in pieces.'

Wufei held Duo close as they staggered for the hotel. Duo's footing was uncertain and he depended heavily on his left leg. His blue jeans were soaked with blood. Wufei tried to pick him up, but Duo shoved at him with a panted 'No.' Yet he had no choice but to take Duo around the back for the pool-side service entrance. He could see the cleaning staff in the lobby, and they couldn't be seen like this. They limped up the pavement to the gravel yard, and Wufei swiped his room card to get them through the gate. The pool was eerily quiet, still covered with its plastic tarp, the lounges all empty of the women and children who had occupied them since Wufei's arrival. Wufei had chosen the back way because the camera there could be avoided, if one clung to the wall; he'd noticed it the first night when he and Duo had come to examine the place. It was difficult in Duo's condition, but they managed, he was sure. Duo's ragged gasps in his ear were the only noise, though he strained to hear the approach of any staff or visitors. They reached the door, and once more he swiped his card before renewing his grip on Duo's arm over his shoulders.

'I'm not going to make it,' Duo mumbled.

'You can.' He scrabbled at the latch, missing it the first time. 'Just to the lift.'

'No, I need to stop.'

'We can't risk it.'

They nearly made it. But a young woman in a maid's uniform suddenly appeared dragging a hoover, headed toward them. Wufei yanked Duo along bodily, dragging him into the door marked 'Stairwell'. They bounced through it, and Wufei used the momentum to drop Duo onto the lowest step. As soon as Duo's weight landed, he swung around to search for cameras and to be sure the woman hadn't seen them. No-one followed, and the one camera he saw had an obvious blind spot. The lack of security had its downsides, but at the moment he was only concerned with pulling Duo into a corner currently occupied with stacked lobby chairs.

Duo was trembling. His hands fisted at Wufei's shirt, leaving rust-coloured stains. 'Get it off me.'

The wire. Wufei hesitated even to touch it, knowing it would hurt-- no, not hurt. That was the point, wasn't it? Duo wouldn't perceive it as pain.

'Hold your breath,' he said finally. 'I'll try.'

Duo nodded tightly. Wufei traced the outer rim of wire biting into Duo's wrists. The third time around he found what felt like an end, and used his fingernail to pry it free. Duo was biting his lip, eyelids fluttering. 'Still,' Wufei reminded him, and pulled at the wire. Little scabs broke as he unwound it, and blood flowed freshly again. Wufei couldn't do more than loosen the tangle, and tried to hold it steady enough for Duo to slip his hand out. A lifetime ago, they'd managed just this very thing with their wristcuffs on the Lunar Base; he'd watched with a certain jealousy and awe as Duo had expertly manipulated joints, even dislocating his own thumb to slip his hand free. They'd been found out and guards had replaced the cuffs with the unpickable maglocks-- unpickable until Duo had picked them, in the last moments before they ran out of breathable air. He'd waked from his unconsciousness to see Duo furiously at work on Wufei's own locks, and in only seconds they'd been free.

No such success now. Implant or no, Duo had gone days in chemical haywire, and pleasure could be as sharp as pain. He cringed from each contact with the wire, even Wufei's fingers, and once nearly sobbed in frustration. Wufei tried to soothe him, and then he just tried to quiet him, but what put it over the edge was a sudden loss of balance-- Wufei's. He'd been perched against the stair rail, and his shirt, loose from his pants now, became trapped under his thigh. It tripped him up when he tried to shift his position. When he fell, he hit Duo's wounded knee.

The cry Duo let out nearly frightened him out of his wits. He'd known men who moaned in agony, but not men like Duo, men who would rather die before they admitted to such weakness. He slapped a palm over Duo's mouth, aborting the noise before it could echo in the stairwell and give them away. Duo's eyes were red and watery, staring up at him. Tears. Not from Duo. Duo despised tears. Duo was so ashamed of such weaknesses.

A third weakness at work. Duo was hard.

Duo blinked, closed his eyes. 'I can make it to the lift,' he whispered.

In other circumstances-- even with Duo-- in another place or time he would never have even thought of it. But after the week he'd had of wondering, beginning to believe that Duo was dead and it was under his orders, to see now how near to truth those suppositions had been-- he was barely breathing himself. He curved his hand-- he curved his hand to Duo's crotch.

Duo's eyes squeezed tightly shut. Wufei covered the sound that escaped him. He could feel the ridge of Duo's flesh beneath the zip as he dragged the tab down, enough to get his fingertips between the jagged jaws. It hardly took anything else-- he rubbed with the broad side of his thumb, his pointer stroking down cotton-covered warmth. He dropped his forehead to Duo's shuddering shoulder. It was only moments before he felt the cotton go damp, and Duo's breathing stopped. He let the hand over Duo's mouth drop first, but left the other where it was until Duo shifted away.

'I hate this thing,' Duo breathed. 'At least pain was honest.'

Wufei rubbed his sleeve over his damp upper lip. 'Let's try to make it to the lift. I'll see if the hall is clear.'

 

**

 

The total of Duo's injuries was far too grave for Wufei's long-ago lessons in acupuncture and fire cupping to alleviate. It was the stab wound from their first night that truly worried him, however, and the twin slash to his left knee-- both inflamed, dirty, the knee still bleeding sluggishly. Yet the argument for avoiding L2's hospitals had never been so strong as it was this moment. Bad enough they couldn't immediately change hotels. They should, he knew, but a man in Duo's condition would be remembered, and there were no guarantees the cartel hadn't set someone to watching. It would have to wait until Duo was well enough-- if they had that kind of time. Duo was feverish, and once he made it to his bed he closed his eyes and didn't move.

It was that which finally decided Wufei. He covered Duo with the spare blanket from the closet. 'I'm going to go,' he whispered. 'I'll send someone to be here with you. It may be a while. You won't be alone.'

'S'all right,' Duo mumbled.

'No, it's not.' He wiped sweat from Duo's forehead. 'Someone will come soon. Just hold on.' He changed his stained shirt and took the time to button and belt it. He wore his uniform jacket, his badge clipped to his lapel. He wasted precious moments in a fit of uncertainty, then, before he finally gave himself a shake and stepped into the hall. He opened his mobile and dialled for the sector operator.

'I need the home extension for--' He stopped immediately, cursing his foolish and distracted mind. 'I need the business extension for the Branca Restaurant at Bibury Court Hotel. Please transfer me directly.'

_'Transferring,'_ the computerised voice replied courteously. _'Please hold for service.'_

It took an agonising number of rings. Yet it was now nearly six; the colony lights would go up in just minutes, and anyone intending to open for breakfast would have to be opening that kitchen now--

_'Branca,'_ a man's voice answered.

'I need to speak to Sawyer,' Wufei said. 'The chef at your--'

_'Hilde? She doesn't use that name anymore, she goes by Schbeiker again.'_ Too late, caution crept in. _'Who's this calling?'_

'A friend. Chang. Please, if she's there, it's urgent.'

_'All right...'_ Ambient noises, clangs and odd scuffles, filled the receiver. _'Hilde?'_

Time. More time. Wufei abandoned standing still and took to the stairs again, to check they hadn't left any evidence behind in the climb to their room. At the front desk, he waved for the clerk's attention. 'I'm leaving a key for a guest,' he said. 'She'll pick it up in fifteen minutes.'

_'This is Hilde,'_ his mobile announced, and he crammed it between ear and shoulder as he brushed through the lobby doors and back into the street. The Rolls Royce, at least, was gone, and a quick survey yielded no obviously suspicious characters on the street. _'Agent Chang?'_

'I need a very large favour,' he said. No taxis-- there. One coming around the corner. Wufei stepped into the street to intercept, putting out his badge at arms' length to catch the driver's attention. 'Duo is badly hurt. I need to find someone to help, but he can't be left alone in his condition.'

_'You're asking me to—'_

'Yes. I'm sorry. I know how you feel about him.' The driver pulled to the kerb for him, and Wufei yanked at the door. 'Preventer Plaza,' he snapped. 'Sawyer-- Hilde--'

_'I'll come.'_ She inhaled, the sound shaky in his ear. _'Where are you?'_

'The Westfalia on 11th. There's a key for you at the desk. Room 513. I'm sorry. Your business.'

_'It can run without me for a morning. I'll come. Good luck.'_

'Thank you.' He felt shaky himself, signing off. Too much tension for too long. The gentle rocking of the taxi made him slightly nauseated. He needed to calm himself. It was a crisis, yes. But not a deadly one. Not yet. Panic aided no-one, and he had too much pride to give in to his baser emotions, to let his body rule his mind. He breathed deeply until the rush of oxygen provided the acuity of thought he needed, until he felt even enough to face the problem with the necessary detachment.

The driver let him out at the front steps of Preventers Plaza. 'No charge,' he said, when Wufei reached to pay him. 'Colony policy.'

Wufei wasted no time debating it. He dropped a twenty note into the till and vacated the vehicle. His badge got him in the lobby doors, but he was stopped by the front desk, who wanted to sign him in. Rather than antagonise the guard, Wufei suffered through the network check to prove his identity, though he'd already done the very same thing several times and chafed at the uselessness of the formality. Next was the weapons check, then the creation of a guest pass with his picture. The one concession he made to his own sense of the ticking clock was to ask for a list of medical personnel. Then he had the guard alert Maquinna Cloudwalker he was there. He planned to run a little roughshod in the next minutes, and the least he could do to avoid undue arguing was to be honest with the man about it.

Maquinna, however, failed to meet him when he stepped off the lift. Wufei did not wait for him. He commandeered the phone on the nearest desk from a young agent who stared at him as he dialled. He went right down the list he'd been given, hanging up if the call went unanswered for more than four rings. He went through seven names in quick succession, growing colder at each delay.

A junior lieutenant named Deangelo Ortega was lucky number eight, in the office early enough to receive Wufei's call. Wufei heard nothing more than the click of the receiver being lifted from the cradle before he broke in, overriding a sleepy introduction. 'This is Agent Scarab, Security Level 19. You're required on the fourth floor.'

The receiver was snatched from his hand. 'Belay that,' Maquinna snarled into it, and tossed it back to its owner, who tried very hard to make herself disappear by hunching over her computer. 'The hell are you doing, Chang?' Cloudwalker demanded.

'I need a medic,' Wufei said evenly. 'Preventers keep medics on staff for access during ongoing missions.'

'You look healthy enough to me.' Maquinna's dark eyes narrowed. 'You don't mean--'

'I don't have time to explain, nor am I obligated to report,' Wufei said icily. He ignored the curious and unsubtle stares they were getting from the Preventers on the floor, wondering how far Maquinna would walk into a public humiliation. 'Your orders were to supply me with sufficient--'

'I know my orders,' Maquinna snapped. 'Supplies never came up.'

'Then by all means, let us clarify. Home Office should be open.'

It was a contest of wills. Heads ducked quickly when Maquinna turned to glare.

'My office,' Cloudwalker said grudgingly.

'Shall we go straight to the seat of authority?' Wufei asked, the moment they reached the privacy of the blinded and dim office. A cardboard coffee cup and wrapped meal still sat on Maquinna's desk.

'You'll get a damn medic,' Maquinna muttered. He slapped on a light. 'What happened to Maxwell?'

'I'm not obligated to report to you,' Wufei reported relentlessly. 'Call the medic and tell him to bring a full kit.'

'A full kit.' Maquinna stood with crossed arms, evaluating Wufei. 'He got himself into more trouble, didn't he.'

Wufei deliberately stepped close. Maquinna outweighed him by probably three stone and Wufei's eyes were only level with his shirt buttons, but it was Maquinna who moved back. Wufei said, 'The very second I can prove you're covering the gang massacre, I will turn you in to the Council and personally testify against you.' He halted Maquinna's protest with an upraised hand. 'I'm not done. Any attempt to impede my investigation can and will be construed as dereliction of duty. You will be discharged, at the very least.'

'You're a high-handed bastard, Chang.' Now Maquinna took advantage of his size, looming over Wufei with a grim glower. 'You come onto my turf and make ridiculous and unfounded accusations--'

'Am I to assume then your reluctance to be useful is merely gross negligence?' Wufei reached for the desk and picked up Maquinna's phone. He pushed it into the man's thick chest. 'Call Ortega. Have him meet me here. And then you will stand outside while I contact my command.'

Maquinna lifted the receiver. He dialled. 'Ortega,' he said a moment later. 'Get a kit and come to my office.' Then he tossed the phone back to the desk. It clattered like thunder before falling to the floor. 'You can go to hell, Chang,' he added quietly. 'And you can tell Command I wished you a merry ride.'

The slam of the door registered along his nerves as a shiver. Wufei sat slowly in Maquinna's chair. It was a good thing Maquinna was lazy or corrupt-- it had kept him from challenging an assumption of authority Wufei doubted he could truly call on. He had no proof Maquinna was actively working against him, and he had overplayed his hand revealing he suspected it.

It took Quatre's secretary only seconds to pass him along. Quatre took his call immediately, concern drawing his pale eyebrows together when he saw Wufei's face. _'Bad news,'_ his friend surmised.

'I can't relate the details on this connection,' Wufei said, suddenly stilted. And unsure. Exactly what did he want to say, if he couldn't trust the message not to stray into the wrong hands. Or give the wrong impression. He didn't forget what he and Duo had discussed, that it was possible the very future of Preventers depended on Wufei being a steady hand in this mission.

Quatre filled his silence. _'You look like hell on toast,'_ he said lightly. _'You're not sleeping enough, Wufei.'_

Wufei was thrown. He inclined his head stiffly. 'It's the time difference, I think.'

_'You should take a night to relax. I don't think the fate of the universe will be disturbed if you have a good meal and get a few extra hours.'_

'Yes. I--' He wet his lips. 'Sir,' he said then--

Quatre interrupted him. _'What did Duo learn about the involvement of the cartels?'_

'Sir.' Wufei glanced to the door. He could see Maquinna's tall shape outlined against the blinds like the shadow of some ancient tree trunk. 'Advisement: I believe it's time to abort.'

Quatre, thousands of miles away on Earth, looked at Wufei through the screen as if trying to reading his mind.

'We're in danger here,' Wufei said. 'I have come to believe that the benefits no longer outweigh that danger. This is not a matter to be solved by two agents. Perhaps a specially trained task force. Cloudwalker can form one from the locals. Or perhaps if we were to return better prepared--'

_'It's only a fact-finding mission,'_ Quatre said. _'I would think you are over-qualified, not under.'_

'It isn't a matter of qualification.' He almost shook his head, but held himself still. 'It is, actually. Maxwell's presence here may no longer be useful.'

_'Last week you were reporting significant successes.'_

'I would hardly say significant, sir.'

_'Don't underestimate your accomplishments, Agent. Gaining Keawe's trust is a large mark in your favour. Duo's information on the gangs has pulled together clues we might never have matched into a whole picture. If anything, I'd say you and Duo are making a stellar team.'_

He was being argued down before he could even marshal his own defence, and he didn't like it. He said, 'Yes, sir,' but he also brought his hand into view of the screen, setting it on the table in a tight fist. Quatre's eyes flicked ever so slightly to it, then back to Wufei's face.

And then Quatre brazenly ignored the signal. He said, _'If we're in agreement, Agent, I'll let you get back to work.'_

'Quatre—'

_'I said no, Wufei.'_

Wufei was stunned. It was one thing to disagree with a friend, and when Quatre had been promoted they had privately joked that they were likely to butt heads one day, but this was tantamount to ordering a last stand.

_'If you're getting threats, then they're scared of you, and that means you're doing your job right.'_ Quatre leaned toward the screen intently. _'We aren't going to have many chances to take control of the situation on L2, Wufei. Don't think me heartless. I appreciate your concerns. If you truly think you're in danger, take whatever measures you must; you have my official backing. But if we give up now it's going to be that much harder next time, and we can't keep breaking Duo out of jail to use his expertise. This is our one opportunity.'_

'They tortured him.'

Quatre came to an abrupt halt, dismayed. He passed a hand over his eyes, staring away from the screen.

'It's time to abort,' Wufei said again, quietly. 'It's time to get him away from this place before we kill him.'

When Quatre finally spoke, it was bitter. _'I knew it. I knew sending him to the cartels was too dangerous. Damn it, Wufei. You should have known better, the both of you.'_

'You were right.' The admission cost him. 'Cloudwalker is lending me a medic.'

_'Give me the name and I'll have him listed onto your mission with the appropriate clearance. Duo-- is he--'_

'The implant did what it was supposed to.'

_'Did they find out about it? The cartels?'_

'It was obvious Maxwell wasn't responding as one normally would in such a situation,' Wufei said.

Quatre chewed his thumbnail. _'We can't abort,'_ he repeated. _'We can't. This is too important.'_

'Quatre.' He held in his frustration with great effort. 'I want my protest formally added to the record.'

_'As you wish.'_ Quatre did not quite meet his eyes. _'Please tell him... I'm so sorry. But I believe he can do this.'_

'I'll tell him.' Wufei rubbed his thumb over his fingers, and let his fist fall from the desk. 'Signing off.'

Maquinna knocked. 'Your medic is here,' he snapped through the door.

'Send him in.' Wufei closed his connection and erased the metadata file, the smallest and quickest-- and least effective-- security measure available. It only removed the file from Maquinna's CPU, not the server backup tapes, and if it occurred to Maquinna to retrieve it, there was nothing Wufei could do.

An Hispanic man somewhat older than Wufei entered cautiously. To Wufei, whose colony had been exclusively and deliberately homogeneous, it was a continual surprise to see so much variety in features. Even an Earth metropolis didn't have the population mix that L2 did. The medic jumped when Maquinna closed the door sharply behind him.

'Ortega,' Wufei said, and stood. 'I'm Agent Scarab. I'm bringing you onto my team for the duration of my mission. You now have Security Clearance Level 17, and you will not report to your regular command until I release you. When I do so, you will be bound by confidentiality not to reveal any details of what you may observe or overhear. Am I understood?'

Ortega straightened, though he stopped short of saluting. 'Yes, sir.'

'You have your medical supplies?'

'Yes, but if you tell me what I'm likely to encounter, I can tailor my kit better.'

That was unexpectedly helpful. Wufei still hesitated-- Maquinna probably had his ear pressed to the door. 'Largely superficial injuries,' he said finally. 'Two with tissue damage. Infection is possible.'

'Then if you give me another minute, sir, I can be ready for it.'

'Go.'

The ride back to the hotel was silent, Wufei because he was starting to lose whatever energy or adrenaline had sustained him this long, Ortega perhaps intimidated by his new circumstances. They were both in uniform, but Wufei opted against trying to sneak in. The streets were busy already with people heading off to their workplaces, and hotel staff would be moving about, too. Besides which, he remembered wearily, there probably wasn't a criminal on L2 who didn't know a Preventer had Duo Maxwell holed up at the Westfalia.

He waited, though, until they stood alone in the lift to speak again. 'The man you're here to treat is Duo Maxwell,' he said. Ortega knew the name, all right; he drew in a quick breath, but though Wufei waited, did not interrupt. 'You don't need to know why he's here, only that we were attacked nearly three weeks ago, and Maxwell received rudimentary treatment for a wound to the abdomen.'

'Three weeks ago?'

'Sometime in the past week, he was-- attacked again. He's mobile, but only just.'

Ortega absorbed it all behind a mask of professionalism. 'Anything else, sir?'

'Yes. Before you give him any medication, clear it with me. There are outside considerations.'

'You mentioned infection--' The lift opened to put them out on their floor. Ortega took a cautionary look to both direction of the corridor. 'Infection was possible,' he finished. He followed Wufei down the hall. 'If that is the case, he'll need antibiotics, at least.'

'You'll clear any prescription with me first.' Wufei swiped his card in his door. 'Are we understood?'

Ortega was well-trained. 'Yes, sir,' he said again, and there were no more protests.

Tom Sawyer was the first sight he had, opening the door. She sat on the bed with Duo in a low circle of lamp light, but she rose when they entered. 'He's asleep, sort of,' she reported.

Wufei nodded stiffly. 'This is a medic with the Preventers. He'll take over.' He gestured, but Sawyer was already giving up her post, gathering a wad of wet cloths as she went. Wufei locked the door and set the extra chain, and met her in time to take the bundle from her hands to the sink. All the flannels had spots of blood. He would have to find bleach, or get rid of them.

'He asked for you,' Sawyer told him. 'He didn't think you'd come back.'

'Of course I would come back.' He ran water enough to clog the bowl and let the flannels soak, leaning on the hard ceramic sink with both hands. 'Did he tell you how it happened?'

'No.' Sawyer didn't come any farther into the bath than the door, but he was very aware of the intimacy of their lowered voices, her nearness. She didn't have her shapeless chef's smock today, not here, and he was dimly surprised by the feminine smallness of her slender body, her long pale neck above her ruffled blouse. 'You don't wear scent,' he observed, irrelevantly.

Unaccountably she flushed, her hand going protectively to her throat. 'I don't wear perfume when I'm cooking,' she said gruffly. 'I need to be able to smell the food.'

'Forgive me, I-- I didn't mean-- anything.' He turned off the water. 'You said he's sleeping?'

'If you can call it that.' She glanced behind her to the beds. 'I don't mean to ask what happened, but... this wasn't supposed to happen, was it?'

'No.'

'But it's connected to those questions you were asking before, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

She watched Ortega in the bedroom; Wufei could see only a sliver of activity from the angle of the dressing mirror on the door. When she spoke again, she said, 'When's the last time you ate?'

He couldn't truly remember. 'Yesterday. The day before, maybe.'

'I'll get you something from the continental. It's not much, but you need something in your stomach.'

She was staying, then. He couldn't find appropriate words of gratitude, though. His tongue was frozen. He only managed a nod.

When she was gone, Ortega called him near. Wufei shrugged out of his coat. Sawyer must have turned up the heat, and it was quite warm. 'What's his status?' Wufei asked.

'I assume there's a reason you didn't take him to hospital.' Ortega's voice was cool with disapproval.

'His presence here is classified.'

'If you're not worried about crippling him, that's fine.'

'His presence is classified,' Wufei repeated icily.

The medic wrestled with it, and his conscience, but ultimately he was a Preventer, and if his agreement was still a touch unhappy, it no longer reached his voice. 'He's in early stages of infection. Whatever he was cut with was dirty. He will need antibiotics, and I'd like permission to do blood work so I can use a targeted spectrum.'

'How much of that can you do here?'

'All of it, but I need space and a lot of power outlets.'

'I'll get a strip from the front desk. What about the knee?' Anxiety nearly made it past his control, and he kept his face expressionless only with great effort. 'He'll be crippled?'

'Probably not,' Ortega admitted grudgingly. 'I'd feel better if I had access to a rehab facility.'

'But you don't, so do the best you can without one. Anything else you need?'

'Ice would be helpful.'

'Can you use it if I put it in the hotel bucket?'

'Yes. See if you can get chips as well. Maxwell's edging toward dehydration. And get clean sheets.'

He had to make a trip to the storey above for both ice and sheets, simply taking them off a housekeeping cart standing in the hall. Sawyer was back when he returned, filling his electric kettle to boil water. 'Food's on the table,' she said softly. 'Try to get it down.'

It didn't actually need much of a try. When the first bite of toast made it to his lips, he discovered he was ravenous. Sawyer had brought him a sampling of everything from the buffet, including a full cup of sugar-heavy juice. She made him a steaming mug of tea as he forked egg beaters quickly into his mouth, and he mumbled a thanks.

He had nearly finished when Ortega was forced to wake Duo for the blood work. 'Come on, friend,' the medic muttered at him, chafing Duo's wrist and cheeks. 'Come on now.'

Duo's bruised eyes gleamed dully in the lamplight. 'Who're you?' he slurred. It was barely more than a whisper, but in the silence of three others holding their breaths, it was quite audible.

'I'm Agent Deangelo Ortega,' the medic answered. 'I'm going to take care of you.'

'Finally got the hot doctor.' Duo rolled his head. He stilled when he saw Wufei near.

'Can you follow my finger?' Ortega was asking. 'Yes? Good. How many fingers?'

'One, and it better be the right finger.'

Wufei's chest tightened at Duo's weak joke.

'I'm going to take some blood, and then you're going to need rather a lot of sewing up,' Ortega told his patient. 'So I need you to lie still until I tell you to move.'

'Roger, pretty boy.' Duo carefully propped his arm to cover his eyes. 'You mind if I don't look, though? I've seen enough of my own blood lately.'

Sawyer touched Wufei's shoulder for his attention. 'I should go take care of a few things,' she murmured. 'But it won't take long. I'll be right back.'

'You don't have to,' he began, but let it trail into silence. 'Thank you,' he finished. 'For us both.'

'He's a venn,' she said quietly. 'Which makes you one, too. That's enough for me.'

 

**

 

'I didn't fucking get caught until the third day,' Duo grumbled. 'Stop being cranky at me.'

'Why did you stay so long and sneak around, though?' Wufei demanded. 'You told me you were going to make contact.'

'I did. I tracked down a new associate-- followed him to his favourite bar and picked his pocket. I let him catch me and then I groveled for a while, bought him a couple of shots. By the end of the night we were best buddies. People say a lot of things when they're drunk they shouldn't. I poured enough liquor into him that he shouldn't have been able to remember it in the morning, but I guess once he dried out he realised what he'd let slip. He skipped town. That's what did me in. When someone like that disappears, people ask why. Probably it was the bartender who gave me away. Guys like that walk the line and they don't court trouble.'

'Shut up for a moment,' Sawyer told him. She spooned ice chips past his split lips, rather forcefully glaring him down. Duo meekly allowed it.

'Excuse me,' Ortega murmured. He reached over Wufei's shoulder to press a blocky little thing of plastic into Duo's ear. A thermometre. Duo flinched back from it, though Ortega smiled in apology. 'One-oh-one,' the medic reported. 'In case you're curious.'

'Fever,' Wufei guessed.

'It's not unexpected. The antibiotics will help.'

Wufei glanced down at Duo's pale face, and motioned Ortega away. The distance to the bath wasn't quite enough to achieve privacy, but he kept his voice low, conscious of Sawyer's decidedly unauthorised presence. 'Is it your professional opinion that antibiotics would-- disrupt the use of other chemical-- medication?'

'It's possible there could be interaction between the drugs. The antibiotics might lessen the effectiveness of whatever medications he's already taking.'

Given Quatre's insistence not three hours ago-- words like _dereliction of duty_ rang uncomfortably true. He'd already made the decision to wean Duo away, however incrementally, from the chemical domination of his implant. But to actively allow, to order a doctor to directly counteract it? It was only a possibility, one that didn't strike a cultural truth in him like the herbal prescriptions of his childhood, the spiritual health that would bring the body into alignment after it. But it was still a crime against the institution to which he'd devoted his entire adult life.

'Sir.' Ortega stepped closer. 'He's not really in pain, you know. He hides it well, but it's not quite right.'

'Agent—'

'Are you familiar with the gate control theory?'

Duo poked a teasing finger at Sawyer's silky shirt. She batted his hand away, an instinctive move that prompted a wince. Contrite, she touched his face, and he turned his cheek to kiss her palm.

'The gate theory is that pain is an interaction between neurons that transmit pain and neurons that transmit non-painful signals. So if the non-nociceptive fibres can be activated, they can inhibit the sensation of pain. Eventually the brain determines to ignore painful stimuli and accept the non-painful stimuli. In extreme cases analgaesia can be induced so successfully that the mind actually refuses to perceive pain. Picture surgery without anaesthetic, fakirs walking on coals.'

'I'm afraid I don't comprehend your point, Agent.'

'My point is that whatever this “medication” you're feeding him to help him ignore the painful stimuli means that he can throw himself into a rat hole full of bully boys with knives and clubs. It looks a hell of a lot like he's testing the limits, Agent, and frankly I don't think he's found them yet. Just what exactly are you giving him?'

He thought, clinically, that he ought to have been furious. He ought to be raging over to that bed, wrenching Duo to his feet, shaking his teeth loose. But he wasn't. He didn't feel anything, not even surprise. It made far too much sense to be surprising. Duo may not have expressly been trying to make a fool of Wufei, but he had. One more time. Duo was everything his detractors had ever said he was. A manipulative liar.

'Sir.'

'Do you need to know to treat him?' Wufei asked.

Ortega quite visibly clenched his jaw on a retort. 'You may not realise this, sir, but any orders I have as a Preventer can be superceded by the Hippocratic Oath. If I feel that my patient is being endangered by you, I am obligated to report it.'

'To whom?' Wufei tugged at his ponytail, already coming to internal decisions of his own. 'This came down from the Council, so I don't think you'll have much luck. But if you can find someone with the authority to intervene, I wish you would.' He left the medic there, reaching Duo's bed with measured strides. He caught Duo's eyes, and the little light of warmth that had been there fell out when Duo looked at him. Wufei said, 'Get up.'

'What?' Sawyer demanded. 'Agent Chang--'

'I'm speaking to Maxwell. Get up, Duo.'

Ortega hesitated as his back. 'Agent, he can't--'

'He can. He will.'

Duo evaluated him with a lingering silence. His eyes dipped closed for a moment, and Wufei thought he smiled. He pushed back the duvet.

'Stop,' Sawyer said, reaching for his arm. Duo shook his head. He swung his legs from mattress to floor, testing his weight on his knee. Sawyer scrambled to help him, supporting him at the shoulder as he stood.

'What are you doing?' Ortega demanded. 'He shouldn't even be--'

Wufei moved toe-to-toe with Duo. Duo didn't back down, not even to breathe. 'It certainly explains something I've been wondering about,' Wufei said. 'How in the hell you managed to get stabbed. I should have known you'd never let it happen without a reason. But it didn't tell you everything you needed to know, did it? You had to collect more data. What will you try next? Throwing yourself off a building? We're not high enough here to really test it, but we might find out if you can run on broken legs.'

This time he was sure of the smile. Duo's teeth gleamed. 'I have a fair idea. You can tell Une her people do good work. It's not quite invincibility, but I think I know what Heero must be like on the inside now.'

'Leave him alone,' Sawyer protested.

'You honestly don't know?' Duo exhaled a little laugh. 'Jesus. You Preventers wouldn't tell each other the time of day if it might be valuable information later. I'm an experiment, Wufei. L2's viability is at the bottom of a long list of other priorities. You think I qualify as a super solider now? Granted I'm not very tall, but the man who can still walk at the end of a fight is usually the winner.'

'They gave you separate orders.'

'Not in so many words. But they didn't go to all the trouble of sticking it in me without a reason for it. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and all. They had me handy, and we're not quite at war yet. Better to risk my brain going up in smoke than someone actually valuable.'

Wufei held his breath until he could manage it without trying to speak. It was not an argument he could win, not with Duo looking at him like that, and Sawyer starting to figure things out, Ortega already looking for ways around his assignment. Ortega was the one who really had to be dealt with, though, the one who might drag Cloudwalker back in, or try to go above Wufei to the Council.

'Leave the antibiotics,' Wufei said. 'He doesn't require anything else. You can check on him tomorrow. I'll call you in.' He motioned to the door with his chin. 'Go.'

'You're punishing him for following orders?' Sawyer's face was white with anger, but just a tinge of uncertainty kept her standing in place. 'It's not his fault.'

'Thank you for your help this morning. I won't keep you from returning to your business.'

She straightened swiftly, stung by the cool correctness of his tone. 'Duo?'

'I'm okay, sweet heart. Go on. Agent Chang just needs to yell for a while. Get it out of his system.'

She swayed, obviously torn. 'I'll just go down to the lobby,' she said. 'I'm not leaving until I get back up here to see you again. You hear, Agent Chang?'

'He hears,' Duo replied gently. 'Thanks, Tom.'

'And sit the fuck down, idiot.' She grabbed her coat, shoving her slim arms into the sleeves. She bodily moved between the two men, then, glaring up coldly at Wufei. 'You hurt him, and you answer to me. I don't care what it is he's done. When a man's down, you don't keep kicking. He's down.'

She didn't wait for his answer, although she might have been less furious with him if she'd stayed for it. Her protectiveness drained the last of his anger. She was right. It wasn't Duo's fault that Wufei had been hoodwinked by his own command. If anything, it was Wufei's fault for not imagining they would try it. Between this revelation and the disappointing call with Quatre earlier, his confidence in Preventers was reaching a new low, and it was a painful thing to experience.

'Sit,' he told Duo. 'Here.' He took Duo by the elbow, ashamed to feel tremors in Duo's muscles. Whatever the implant did to re-interpret nerve signals, the body still knew it was a strain. He lifted Duo under the thighs to help him settle on the bed with a pillow under his wounded knee. His bare legs looked thin in daylight, old shrapnel scars white lines scattered across the calves. 'I'm--'

'Don't say sorry.' Duo dragged at the duvet until Wufei helped him. 'I don't fool myself I'm the only one getting fucked around here. You pissed off Sawyer, though. There's women who take orders and women who'll slice you open for trying. You might wind up diced and served at her restaurant if you don't apologise.'

Wufei eased onto the mattress next to him, pulling the elastic from his hair. It eased his headache for a moment. 'I don't know what to do next,' he confessed listlessly. 'I don't know how to help you or save you. I don't know if you want me to try.'

'You don't have to. But I'm glad you want to.' Duo curled his hand over Wufei's. Wufei automatically closed his fingers around Duo's, and Duo squeezed him. 'I kind of missed you, you know.'

'Only kind of?'

'Well, after a while I figured you'd be shouting at me when I got back.'

'Duo... how much do you know about the implant?'

'Not that much more than you, probably. They wouldn't show me the lab notes.' Duo rested his head back on his pillow, and for a moment was silent, as if he might be faint. His voice was lower when he spoke again. 'But I know the military doesn't waste its cash on tools that'll make their soldiers feel better when they have boo-boos. I can think of a lot of ways this implant can be useful, and most of them come down to helping your guy survive long enough to bring home the bacon. Which I did. So before Tom comes marching back up here, listen for a minute.'

He rubbed Duo's pale knuckles. 'I'm listening.'

'My drunken friend was pretty talkative, before he got to the puking stage. He was new, so he didn't have any state secrets under his belt, but he knew names. If he was right, we've got our conspiracy. It might be time to start quietly picking up some of these rogue agents and asking pointed questions.'

'They won't answer, even without implants.'

'Before you joined Preventers you used to be so smart. You don't beat them until they talk, Wufei. You barter. Ask them what they want and give them half of it, and they'll give half of what they know, and the result is a lot easier and a lot cleaner than torture.'

'I don't know.' But he could see what Duo was saying-- all those agents were on colony because their governments wanted a stake in L2. If the local criminal underworld really were in collusion, then Preventers was the only blockade left to break. 'You're running the danger of giving them enough of what they need to help them win.'

'They're gonna win anyway, my friend. They can do it on their own terms, or they can do it on ours. I know which one I'd choose.'

Wufei was troubled. 'This is your advice, then? Try to track them down and make a trade?'

'They're here because their governments got greedy. Greedy people are usually interested in minimal expenditure of resources. If you kill off their guys, they'll have to send more, and that's time and training. Of course, it could take years that way, and if you kill enough of their people, you're inviting retaliation.' Duo covered his forehead with his arm. 'The last thing I ever wanted was to see L2 partitioned out between foreign interests. I don't want it now. Offer them trade agreements, offer them diplomatic advantage, a vote in the Parliament, veto power. Something. Give them anything but my colony, Wufei.'


	7. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Duo kissed him-- his cheek. Wufei flinched, automatically staring about to be sure they were unobserved. 'Relax,' Duo advised then, and filched a slice of lamb from his wrap. 'I already did that. No-one's here to watch me actually like you.'_

'I hate to admit it,' Maquinna said grudgingly, 'but he did it, didn't he.'

'It's a start,' Wufei acknowledged. They were still stiff with each other, though Maquinna seemed to be willing to declare peace-- as long as Wufei let him in on the interrogations. Wufei was glad to direct some of Cloudwalker's aggression away from him. It was much easier than admitting he might have jumped the gun in accusing Maquinna of partaking in conspiracy for personal gain. His suspicions were probably accurate, but it been-- as Wufei had often been told-- undiplomatic.

'What exactly happened to him?' Maquinna asked then, turning to glower down at Wufei. 'He looks like hell.'

Yes, he did. Duo's bruises were all livid now, striking purples and greens, though Ortega's intervention had reduced the swelling. It turned his eyes into a sickly purple, as if his entire face was contused. The grey hood of his sweatshirt washed any possible colour from the rest of him, and he almost blended into the wall he leaned against. But he was upright and walking with the aid of a crutch that Wufei had insisted he rely on, though Duo had pointed out, more than once, that he felt fine, thank you.

'I still don't see why Keawe's got to be updated every five minutes,' Cloudwalker grunted. 'This isn't business for a politician.'

'He's involved because keeping him away would be more effort than it's worth. He's involved, and he's been helpful, but more importantly he knows enough to make trouble if we don't pacify him.'

'Assuming we can.'

Yes. Assuming that. 'There's still plenty of time to blow it,' Wufei said. 'If, for instance, we don't actually get anything from any of our spies here.'

'Ye of little faith,' Duo muttered. 'You'll only fuck up if you go in there looking like you're carrying doom on your shoulders. Your “spies” in there are going to know they have the upper hand.'

Both agents let that pass unremarked. 'Who do you want to start with?' Cloudwalker asked Wufei. 'I'm leaning toward the Israeli.'

'She won't give you anything.'

'So? The other ones won't know that. We spend a couple hours in interrogation with her, then we go to the other ones and tell 'em we know it all.'

'I highly doubt they're working together.'

'I highly doubt they aren't. They've been through all this before, remember? They'd have to be infants not to see the similarities to last time, and that means they know they've got compatriots. Or at least competing interests.'

A salient point. Maybe Maquinna wasn't quite as ineffective as Wufei imagined. 'The Israeli, then.' Cloudwalker's deputy provided the file when Wufei motioned for it. 'Batel Fischer.'

Duo snorted. 'Well, we're in the presence of a princess, gentleman. Or do you think they might not be related?'

'No, somehow I doubt they are. And the Embassy won't confirm anything?'

'Naturally,' Wufei answered. 'We're on our own.'

Duo straightened, thumping his crutch to the floor. 'Mind if I join the fun? I'm not exactly asking, since I was hired for this, but it's fun to observe the niceties.'

'No,' Maquinna retorted. 'And I'm not exactly asking either.'

'You're forgetting her people got on colony last time because I personally invited them. I've got shock value, at least. Use me, Cloudwalker. Even a Gundam's worthless without a pilot.'

'Don't even remind me about Gundams,' Maquinna said sourly. 'Chang, you're in charge. Bring your pet pilot along if you like.'

Batel Fischer, or whoever she really was, was a plain woman still in the street clothes in which she'd been apprehended. Her hair was badly dyed a streaky black, and the piercings in her eyebrow and nose were rather obviously new. Duo didn't hide his contempt past entering the interrogation room. 'Jesus, she thinks it's a movie role,' he said.

Shock value, that was right. Fischer's eyes went wide on seeing him, and then uncertain. She slumped back in her chair chewing at her thumbnail.

Wufei tossed her file to the table and sat in the chair on the left. 'Do you at least comprehend the trouble you're in?' he asked her. 'We notified your embassy that we had you in custody. They had twenty-four hours to claim you and ensure your return. They didn't.'

'Don't be too hard on them,' Maquinna said. 'They were probably busy eradicating her existence from the files, aborting her service codes, telling her family she's died in a car crash somewhere.'

'Would anybody mind if I just short-cut around the posturing?' Duo snagged the second chair before Maquinna could, sliding awkwardly into the seat. Fischer stared at him suspiciously. 'You know who I am,' he said matter-of-factly. 'They'll play good-cop bad-cop all afternoon if you don't interrupt things before they hit their stride. What say we break rhythm for common cause? We already know what you were doing. All you have to do is fill in a few blanks. You do that, and these gentlemanly types here will give you back your coat and let you out the door. The back door, obviously.'

'Maxwell,' Maquinna snapped. 'You're not here to make promises.'

Duo ignored him. 'So now you weigh your options. Languish in prison comforted by the nobility of your martyrdom? Or walk out of here alive and ready to serve your homeland. I've been in that chair, apricot. You can see for yourself which one I chose.'

Wufei had been subject to Duo's power of persuasion a number of times in his life, and quite a few of those in the last three weeks. There was a deadly earnest in Duo's level gaze, and though his words were light, his meaning was not. Fischer's dark glare grew troubled, and her small teeth left bloody marks on her thumb.

Then, abruptly, she looked at Wufei. 'As he says?' she demanded. 'You'd let me go?'

'They'll even buy you a shuttle ticket,' Duo said.

'Duo.' Wufei exhaled slowly. 'We'll hold you for a month,' he said. 'You'll be allowed contact with your Embassy.'

'So they can destroy me for spilling secrets to Preventers?' She gripped thin arms tightly over her chest. 'No. No deal.'

'While you're talking to your Embassy, you can mention to them that preferred trade status in manufactured arms is on the table.'

'I'm not a diplomat,' Fischer muttered, but now she was worried.

'No. Diplomats have to consult. All you have to do is report. To us. And then you can report to your command-- who might even be grateful.'

'Well said.' Duo crossed his arms on the table. 'You two leave now. Batel and I have things to discuss.'

'You're not having private--'

'No, Agent Cloudwalker, we're not. But you've got that nice two-way mirror there to stand behind, and Batel and I will do just fine in here all alone while we patschkie.'

Wufei stood voluntarily, and Maquinna reluctantly followed him out the door. Wufei saw no harm in allowing Duo his theatrics-- they could be effective, in their own way, and they needed that kind of effectiveness now. But as soon as the door was closed, he said, 'Maxwell speaks Yiddish, at least enough to communicate with her. You better find an interpreter now.'

Maquinna cast him a startled look, and went up the corridor at a good clip for the phone on the wall.

_'Yiddish?'_ Duo said, turning to look at the two-way mirror at his back. _'I'm as shagetz as it comes, buddy.'_

Wufei depressed the speaker beside the mirror. 'You've got no more than five minutes while they try to find someone who does speak Yiddish. Make use of it.'

_'They grow up so fast,'_ Duo told the woman. _'You heard him. You want a deal, you've got five minutes to make it with the people who'll be willing to move you out of here.'_

She leaned over the table to him, her voice low. Wufei thumbed up the volume. She said, _'Why do you work with Preventers? The whole Sphere knows what they did to you.'_

_'I don't keep up with gossip.'_ Duo folded his hands under his chin. _'Five minutes runs up fast. How about I provide some short-cuts. You were sent here to... hmm. Let's see. No doubt there's a few colonists who are dumb enough to fall for a re-patriation argument, but there's not enough support here for actually returning the colony to its forebears on Earth, even if there was some kind of logic for dividing it up between you and everyone else who threw money at the space programme. So that leaves you with sewing discord and discontent amongst the various who want the colony under their thumb, and who are stupid enough to think your government's going to help them for free. In that scenario, I'm guessing you approached... feel free to jump in here... no? Well, by my watch we're at three minutes and change, so I'll just wrap up. Did you go Sterlings? Even babies on L2 know they've got half the parliament in their pocket, and the parliament brings the police, and we know the police have been busy little bees lately. But, no, I think you went to the Jerusalems. They approached the B-ham 98s, am I right? Ah, I am right.'_ He clucked his tongue. _'Your face reveals more than you think it does, Princess.'_

What her face revealed was a certain amount of fear, now. _'How do you know this?'_ she demanded.

_'Because I'm smarter than you and everyone you worked with combined.'_ Duo stood, though Wufei noticed he had to use the table for support. _'And we're officially short on time, so if you want a deal, you have until I get to the door. I'm a little slower than normal, you'll notice. Imagine; if they'd do this to me, what'll they do to you, without Preventers protecting you?'_

Thick raps of heels on tile warned Wufei in time to turn off the two-way. 'What's he doing?' Maquinna demanded.

'Communicating, presumably,' Wufei answered blandly.

'You're not even listening?'

'To what? I don't understand any of it.'

Cloudwalker scowled. 'This is just what I need.'

'Any luck with the translator?'

'No-one in the fucking building speaks Hebrew.'

'I wonder.' Wufei feigned a thoughtful frown. 'I suppose it's a bit much to-- no. Even Maxwell's not omnipotent. There's no way he could have known you didn't have a translator?'

It was worth it for the expression on Maquinna's face.

Duo rapped on the glass. Wufei turned on the volume again, as Maquinna stormed the door. _'We're done in here,'_ Duo said. _'You have got people who can sign international treaties, right?'_

'You didn't,' Wufei blurted, shocked.

Duo grinned through the window. _'No, but-- Cloudwalker, seriously, handcuffs? Where the hell is she going to run to--'_

Maquinna came out of the room pushing the woman along ahead of him. 'Get Maxwell locked down,' he told Chang. 'And find out what he said to her.'

Wufei drifted slowly toward the door, watching Cloudwalker until he disappeared into the lift at the end of the hall. Duo was slumped against the window, now, watching him until Wufei pointed him back at a chair. Then Duo rolled his eyes, but sat as he was told. 'They've been feeding her pork,' Duo said. 'It's cruel. Make them stop fucking her around.'

'I will.' Wufei bumped a hip against the edge of the table. 'Is it too much a leap of logic to say we can call Keawe now and tell him we solved the case?'

'A little, yes.' Duo propped his chin up again, looking up at him with a lingering smile at the corners of his mouth. 'But let's play. You're thinking if we can prove it's always that easy-- our spies appealing to whichever cartel or gang has the most reason to listen to them-- then we'll know who murdered those kids.'

'And we'll know which kids are likely to be next.' That dropped the smile from Duo's face, but the solemn silence that greeted Wufei's guess confirmed his logic. 'What are the odds there have been more of those show-downs? Whole massacres that were swept under the rug before we found out?'

'High odds. I love my colony, Wufei, but it's a raw place yet.' Duo's tongue hesitated on his lower lip. 'You need to find out whose side Preventers are on.'

'You're being recorded.'

'And so are you, and I'd like there to be auditory proof that you're innocent. Jesus, Wufei, don't turn off your brain before you follow an argument all the way to the conclusion. Who's doing the sweeping? What's the rug? The law. It's always been the law. I don't deny that Preventers are kinder and gentler than the Feddies, but they've got an agenda too.'

He shut Duo up by putting a hand over his mouth. ' _My_ agenda is to keep you from pissing off Cloudwalker to the point where he decides you could benefit from some time in a windowless cell.'

'Was that supposed to be funny?' Duo pushed his hand away. 'Go call Keawe.'

'In a minute. What did you promise her, anyway?'

'Does it matter? No-one's going to keep with it. She didn't talk, anyway. Give her seven years on an asteroid and maybe she'll have something to say.' Duo stood again. 'Not that I have anywhere else to be, but could we get on with this? Four more spies to talk to, and I'm going to be way ready for lunch.'

 

**

 

'It's not confirmation,' Wufei repeated, 'but it is progress.'

_'Hell, yeah!'_ Keawe was more enthusiastic than Wufei could have hoped. _'You got any kind of ETA on arrests, Agent?'_

'We're really not to that point yet.' Duo jiggled the mustard squeeze at him, and Wufei shook his head. 'And to be absolutely honest with you, in my experience it's not going to be particularly easy to lay this in one arrestable lap. We might be able to pick up a few of the policemen actually involved in the shooting, but if you want the leaders, the men who gave the orders, it's a much steeper hill. We need to prove intent, full knowledge of conspiracy--'

_'And I'm sure you will,'_ Keawe interrupted. _'I have complete faith in you, Agent Scarab. And I'm going to trust you to keep doing the excellent job you've been at so far.'_

'Thank you,' Wufei murmured somewhat sourly. Keawe clearly wasn't above political double-talk when it served him. An order, however implicit, was still an order. 'I'll leave you to your day, sir.'

_'Just one more question-- I assume Maxwell had something to do with this all?'_

Duo waved a foil-wrapped gyro under his nose. Wufei took it on the second pass. 'He was instrumental,' he said cautiously.

_'Then give him my thanks. Whatever his past, he's serving the people of L2 now, and we're grateful.'_

'Yes, sir.' Wufei disconnected with mixed feelings. Duo's appetite seemed well intact; he hadn't waited for Wufei, and he seemed to be taking a third out of his gyro with each bite. Wufei unwrapped his slowly, his mind occupied in chasing something he wasn't quite sure he'd find. 'You have a fan,' he said.

Duo managed a massive swallow. 'Who? Keawe?'

'He asked me to express to you the gratitude of the people.'

Duo laughed much harder at that than Wufei thought it warranted. 'The gratitude of the people? Holy shit. That's hilarious.'

'He seems to take it seriously.'

'I'm sure.' Duo finished his gyro, wiped his hand over his mouth. 'Civil service does strange things to people. Yes, you included. Eat that, or I'm going to take it and eat it for you. I'm still hungry.'

'I suppose it's a good sign.' Wufei took a bite. It wasn't bad, for street food. Duo had sworn by the kiosk selling it, though Wufei suspected Duo had hedged the truth simply to get Wufei to agree to finally choose something, after passing up the felafel stand and everything that had been near a 'hot dog' at any point in its life cycle. 'You certainly seem to be feeling better.'

'Nothing like a little intrigue to get the juices flowing. I don't mind admitting it's kind of fun. Mind games-- gambling. Politics at its best is like a high-stakes card game. You play the hand you're dealt, but whether you win or not is all about how good you are.'

'I hate poker,' Wufei said.

'I know.' Duo kissed him-- his cheek. Wufei flinched, automatically staring about to be sure they were unobserved. 'Relax,' Duo advised then, and filched a slice of lamb from his wrap. 'I already did that. No-one's here to watch me actually like you.'

'I didn't mean to react like that.'

'I know. You're very sincere about that kind of thing. Which is why it sucks so much that you're an idiot with it.' Duo licked his fingers, then picked up his cane and twirled it like a baton. 'From a law-enforcement point of view, I don't think you really need me here anymore.'

'What?' Wufei blocked the cane's swing before it could hit his knee. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean that I've pretty much done what you brought me here to do. It'll take you a couple of months to dig up the rest of the spies and threaten the extent of their activity out of them, but you don't really need me for that. I wouldn't leave it on Cloudwalker's shoulders, but bring in some people you can actually trust from Earth and you'd have a team ready to do the work. It'll take you longer to put out the fires they lit under the cartels, and you need to find out who they bought in the parliament, but you're probably capable.'

'Thanks,' Wufei said again, meaning it in much the same way. 'Are you asking me to send you back to prison?'

'I'm saying if you're ready to put an end to a mission you've obviously detested from the beginning, you've got a good reason now.'

Wufei carefully folded the foil back over his gyro. 'The mission, I found distasteful. Not you.'

'Mostly,' Duo corrected. Wufei saw a ghost of a smile, though he wouldn't turn his head to confirm it. 'I didn't go out of my way to be charming. I'm not entirely sorry. You weren't here to be my friend, and I wouldn't have resented a stranger the way I've resented you being my keeper, but I could have made it easier on you, and I chose not to. So, in a bid to officially make up for that, I'm not going to drag this out like I'd planned. You can send me back where I belong and finish this out on your own.'

'What?' He struggled to understand the words. It was rare he had moments anymore where speaking and thinking in English stymied him so completely, but this felt like that-- an instant of complete incomprehension. 'Why do you want this?'

'I don't.' Duo picked at a ragged fingernail, his eyes low now. 'More than anything. Except that, even more than that, I want you to be happy, and a lot of what makes you happy is being good at your job. And your job won't be complete until you launch me back to the Milky Way.' Wufei drew a breath, but Duo overrode him, gently. 'Now, don't go saying things without thinking it through first. I'm all for declarations of love and caring, but in this situation I'm the only one of us who can make them without compromising my position. I'm glad you're not grabbing at the bit to throw me back in prison, but for the sake of your career you should probably act like you are.' Duo thunked his cane to the pavement, and stood. 'Come on. You can eat the rest of that while we walk. I don't think you ought to leave Cloudwalker unsupervised for too much longer. He's probably on the line with your command right now, taking all the credit.'

Yet Wufei was troubled, and it lingered all the rest of the day. There was paperwork to fill out, reports to write detailing everything they'd learnt from the spies they'd captured. He felt Duo's eyes on him, many times, but when he looked up, Duo was always occupied. Ortega had come to check on his patient, and Duo was working those charms he'd claimed to have left at the port. Wufei had watched Duo win over dozens of people just by smiling. Duo claimed it had to do with the exact number of eyelashes in play when he winked. And he'd even say that, right to the faces of the people he was playing, and to a man they'd only laugh ruefully when they realised they'd been caught. Ortega looked to be tipping over the hurdle-- still sceptical, but falling faster than he knew.

And though Wufei didn't know what the purpose could possibly be, watching Duo's game over in the corner of Cloudwalker's office made Wufei wonder if Duo had been carefully nudging Wufei along some unknown circuit, with that declaration at lunch. Send him back to that asteroid prison. Why? Duo could surely be selfless, when it was called for-- but why now? With what prompting?

What was the angle?

By eight that evening, Wufei had been forced to break out his reading glasses, unable to put up with the strain to his eyes. Duo patently dozed in his corner, his bad leg propped up on a spare chair and his cane resting over his belly, his fingers closed on the grip handle as if it were a gun. Maquinna occupied pride of place behind his own desk, though there was still some tension between them, since Wufei had pulled rank the week previous. They'd worked in silence for hours, now, and Wufei found himself having to frequently check his answers. Sheer weariness was fogging his brain. He even found himself staring out the window, sometimes.

Cloudwalker broke the quiet with his deep gruff voice. 'Your phone's buzzing, Chang.'

'What?' It took seconds too long for Maquinna's words to penetrate. Phone. Wufei pulled it from his belt. It was indeed buzzing with an incoming call, and he hadn't even heard it. His face was warm as he answered it. 'Chang,' he said.

_'Who is this? I'm sorry, I was calling for Agent Scarab. Maybe I've got the wrong number.'_

Damn it. It was Keawe, and Wufei hadn't even thought to check the service number before he spoke. 'He's, uh, I'll get him,' Wufei extemporised, trying to lighten his voice as if he were someone else. 'Just a moment.' He covered the mouthpiece with his thumb, sucking in a deep breath.

'You're an idiot,' Duo said, and leant up to take the phone from him. Wufei let it go without even a protest. 'Agent Scarab's not available,' Duo told the phone. 'Leave a message and I'll get it to him. Uh-huh. Dinner? Sure, why not. Yeah, I'll tell him. Say eight? At Timeline. See you there.' Duo disconnected, offering one of those patented winks to Cloudwalker, who promptly scowled. 'You are cordially invited to sup with the representative from Prince George's,' Duo informed Wufei. 'I went ahead and accepted for you. You're hungry.'

'He didn't...'

'Question the name-dropping? No. People like that think everyone has a secretary, anyway.'

'Lucky,' Maquinna grunted. 'If you're going to get to Timeline by eight, you better get moving. Are you dropping Maxwell back at your hotel, or do you want me to keep an eye on him?'

'Thank you for the offer, Lieutenant, but I think your hospitality tends toward locked doors in rooms without windows,' Duo said lightly. 'And I can supervise myself just fine at the hotel.'

'Ohh, I think not,' Cloudwalker retorted, rising to his feet. He planted meaty fists on the desktop. 'Chang, you leave this man unsupervised and I'll have you checked into Psych for an overdue evaluation.'

'I'm going to order a pizza and go to bed, man. Chill out.'

'Chang!' Maquinna banged a fist on the desk. 'You've already robbed me of Ortega. Put him on guard duty. I don't want Maxwell out wandering the colony getting ideas.'

Duo rolled his eyes. 'I don't know why a one of you thinks I'm going to stop what I'm doing because someone's watching me do it. But if it makes you feel better, send your man. At least give him a book to read, though.'

'Agreed,' Wufei said, just to cut off the argument. 'It appears I'm going to be late if I don't hurry. Tell Ortega to meet us at the hotel.'

'And when I told you to make nice with Keawe,' Maquinna added, 'I didn't mean this. Figure out what he wants and then try to remember you're supposed to be a Preventer, not a lackey.'

'Jealous,' Duo scoffed. 'Come on, Wufei. Drop me off so I can be guarded and you can let Keawe personally thank you for saving the universe one more time. Maybe he'll give you flowers or swag or something.'

'What do you think Keawe really wants?' Wufei asked, when they were safely ensconced in a taxi, away from Cloudwalker's frowns. 'Surely not just to thank me again.'

'For a gay guy-- excuse me, a man who sleeps with other men sometimes-- you sure miss out on a lot of subtext. Dude wants to be your friend.'

'My friend?' For some reason, Wufei was deeply disturbed by that. 'That's nonsensical.'

'Why is it? Lots of people want to be your friend. I want to be your friend.'

'You wanted to get in my pants.'

Duo laughed in delight. 'That I did.'

'And Keawe? You don't think...'

'No, I don't. What I do think is that you represent something exciting and new to Keawe, all this detective work, and he thinks of you as an honest source, which you are, and he sees you as someone invested in justice for all, just like him. You've made your first venn, Wufei.'

Venn. Tom Sawyer had called him that. Now Keawe. 'I don't know,' he said.

'You don't have to. He does. But don't let it worry you. Once you've finished solving the case and all the right people are locked behind very thick bars, he'll probably get over you as fast as he can drop you.'

'Thanks,' he said dryly.

'No charge. Do you feel a need to sit in the cab watching until Ortega comes to guard me, or am I permitted to go all that way upstairs on my own? Take-away's not going to order itself.'

'Go,' Wufei said. He knocked on the window to let their driver know to pull to the kerb. 'Try not to terrorise the poor man.'

'No promises.' Duo slid out of the cab. 'Same advice to you. Let Keawe buy you a glass of something expensive, too. You could do with some relaxing. But try not to let your name slip again?'

 

**

 

'Beer,' Keawe said, and placed a tall sweating glass of dark liquid before Wufei. 'Most politicians I know keep a hefty scotch habit, but I can't get with that. I'll always be a beer man.'

Wufei sipped cautiously. It was better than he'd expected, cool but not cold, with an appealing earthiness. 'I don't drink much, or often,' he admitted.

'Never would've guessed,' Keawe answered, all straight face. He lifted his own pint. 'To the further success of your mission, justice for all citizens of L2, and... feel like we need a third, there.'

'To the passage of Section VI,' Wufei supplied. Keawe broke out the grin for that, and they clinked glasses firmly. 'Do you think it will pass?' Wufei asked then. 'Off the record.'

'Off the record, I think if it fails there'll be riots in the streets here. Whether I can impress that fact on my brilliant colleagues in Parliament remains to be seen.' Keawe drained a third of his beer in deep swallows. 'Off the record, I think a lot of those assholes have stopped acting on behalf of the people and started kow-towing to the people who paid for their office. They're cowards, and they're betraying the public trust. But they still have power.'

'It's almost always like that.' Wufei wet his fingertips against the condensation on his glass. 'Even after revolution, the rebel loses his cause, and will eventually become the problem.'

'Until it sucks enough to bring us back to revolting again.'

'Yes.'

'Like Maxwell.' Keawe cleared another third of his beer. 'You know, it kind of breaks my heart, a man like that in prison. What a waste. What a spirit. To believe something so strongly like that, believe in something-- to be willing to risk everything, your life, your freedom-- your ability to affect the world. You really have to want it, don't you.'

'Or want something that looks enough like it.'

'I've wondered, you know. If I would ever have what it takes.'

Wufei dried his hands together, rubbing until he could feel them again. 'Most will never have to know,' he said. 'Thankfully.'

With a deep breath Keawe finished his beer, turning to signal for another. 'Sorry if I seem to be getting heavy,' he apologised. 'I'm really not one of those guys who gets in his cups and starts weeping for the ills of the world. It's been-- an educational few weeks, since you came on colony. Challenging.'

'How much more is going on that I don't know about?' Wufei asked dryly.

Unexpectedly, Keawe didn't laugh, though Wufei had meant it-- mostly-- as a joke. Instead, Keawe's lips turned up slightly in a smile that was not a smile. 'Maybe things that were always going to happen here,' he murmured. 'And, maybe, things that have to, too. But I like you, Agent Scarab. For your sake, I hope we get you out the port before the mix reaches the boil.'

It was as good a time as any to breach something Wufei had been reluctant to mention. 'You would want to know,' he said. 'I wasn't able to halt disposition of the bodies of all the teenagers who died at the massacre.'

Keawe closed his eyes. 'I thought maybe. Just kept hoping when you didn't bring it up.'

'Preventers have seized the rest-- nine. And the medical office's original autopsy reports. Nine could well be enough. Especially with the reports we have from their families.'

'You win any cases like this with nine bodies?'

'I don't set out to win. My job is to find the truth. And when I know the truth, my job is to fix the balance.'

'Well enough on the field of battle, but Preventers got themselves involved in politics, now, and that's a different set of rules. Politics is all about who you can convince, how many you can fit into your pocket or on your coattails, and how loud you can shout on television.'

'I'm sort of counting on you to do the shouting, Representative,' Wufei said. 'There's one more thing you might not have heard yet. You're aware there have been a string of fatalities in Parliament?'

Keawe sat back, not turning his head now even when their waitress brought him the second beer. 'So that's a rumour with a grain of truth, huh.'

'I don't have nine bodies yet.' Wufei swallowed a mouthful of the bitter alcohol. 'I have one here at least, though. Senator Milchect died in her home last night. There is reason to believe she was being helped along.'

'I knew she was sick.' Keawe's brow creased. He moved his pint in a careful circle over their golden tablecloth. 'Murdered.'

'Her people have filed a request for an autopsy. I'm watching for it to go through. If it flags-- or if it's squeaky clean-- it's another brick in the path.'

'Why tell me?'

'This is information coming from a source a smart man would trust.'

Keawe's dark eyes widened, now. 'Whoa-- that had the dire tone of a warning.'

'Milchect was an outspoken supporter of Section VI. Like you.'

'Are you-- I'm sorry, are you telling me to hire an extra body guard, or to go home and nail the doors shut?'

'Not drastic measures yet,' Wufei said. 'But I think tonight is just the right time to start shopping for recommendations. If you trust Tamara, she may be able to bring in someone for you for the short term, or I can quietly assign someone from Preventers to you. For the rest of it, keep an eye over your shoulder at all times. I doubt whoever's behind this would try poison again, but accidents happen on L2, and you don't want to be the newest victim in the news.'

 

**

 

The combination of long days and the two beers he'd drunk with Keawe kept him to a languid pace as he returned to his hotel. He walked some distance downtown before it occurred to him to hail a cab, and he sat in a pleasant, sluggish buzz until the taxi dropped him at his destination. He stayed in the lobby long enough to make a cup of hot black tea by the empty breakfast buffet, sipping the weak tea and watching the blinking television without truly paying it mind. When his little styrofoam cup was empty, he binned it and made his way to the lifts.

The door didn't take his key card on the first try, nor the second. If he had believed in either fate or ill luck, he might have asked questions at that point, but he was merely irritated and weary and ready to be in his bed. He pushed through the door as soon as the green light flashed at the latch, already kicking his shoes under the sink as he stepped inside. It was dark, so he reached into the bath to turn on that dim light, angling the door so the beams wouldn't accidentally fall on Duo's bed and wake him.

He only registered the futility of that consideration when he turned, eyes adjusting to the soft new glow, and realised Duo wasn't alone.

He got more than a good look at them, in the silence that filled him then. He hadn't even remembered Ortega was meant to be in the room-- but not like this, certainly. The medic lay on twisted sheets and tossed pillows, both hands like white iron on Duo's head as it rose and fell in his naked lap. Ortega's rapid breathing suggested exactly how far along they were in the process, and Duo's grip on a muscular thigh was no less anxious. The cane lay abandoned on the floor between the beds, and Duo posed awkwardly as he worked, steadying himself with the good leg outstretched to the carpet. But Wufei didn't feel anything, watching them. Just a passing thought that he really ought to have expected it, even if he really hadn't, not at all.

He reached for the wall switch, and turned on the overhead lamp.

Ortega jumped, limbs splaying as he tried to grab his shirt and cover himself and shove Duo away all at once. Duo merely sat up, the back of his palm wiping slowly over his mouth. The bruises on his face made intriguing shadows, from which his eyes looked out grimly.

'Sir,' Ortega said. 'Sir-- Jesus--' as he tripped on his own shoes. He stuffed his feet into them, buttoning himself clumsily. 'Sir, I didn't mean-- I--'

'Relax,' Duo said, his voice as dry as dust. 'Everybody fraternises, these days. It's all the rage in prisons.'

'Agent Chang, I've never done this-- I've never...' Ortega's face was furiously red, almost painfully ashamed. He crept to the door as if anticipating attack. 'Sir, please... excuse me. I'll go.'

'Lieutenant.' Wufei reached behind him to stop the door as Ortega would have opened it. 'Tuck in your shirt and close your belt. As long as you wear that uniform, do it justice.'

'Sir.' Ortega stuffed his shirttails into his trousers, securing them quickly. There were two large, very visible hickeys on his neck, that disappeared when he buttoned his collar and tightened his tie. He couldn't meet Wufei's eyes, and stopped trying almost immediately. He stood with hunched shoulders waiting for Wufei to let him out.

Wufei did. 'Go home. Report back to Cloudwalker at Preventers Plaza tomorrow. You are released from this case, excepting the confidentiality agreement you signed.'

'Sir.' Ortega ripped at the latch, and got it open. He ducked out without risking any further humiliation, and Wufei heard him run the distance to the lift.

'You know,' Duo said then, 'If you don't want me, fair enough. But don't stand there and stop me going to someone who does.'

Wufei had to clench his jaw to stop himself from-- screaming or breaking the furniture. 'God damn it, Duo.'

'Good night,' Duo answered, and lay face-down on his bed. He pulled the sheet up over his bare shoulders, and said nothing more.


	8. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'You're in the wrong bed,' Duo whispered._
> 
> _'No,' he answered. 'I'm not.'_

The clang of the bell was like the sound of spirits passing through the temple's rafters, soft and musical. All the tables were empty, the staff hidden back in the kitchen finishing those late-night tasks all restaurants had. But she was still there by the bar, her white smock draped over the stool beside her, her hair just slightly damp as if she'd taken a wet hand to sweep it back. Her bare arms were sleek and white, the fingers of one hand curved to her cheek as she concentrated on the night's accounts. She looked up at the bell, her lips parting in a word that went unspoken.

Wufei's footsteps landed silently on the wooden floors. He crossed the dining area slowly, each movement deliberate, determined. She slid from her stool as he neared, her chest rising and falling quickly. He thought she wanted to say his name, but she didn't; it hovered between them. He didn't halt as he reached her-- he walked right into her, pulling her into his arms. She shuddered deeply.

'And that's when you kiss her?' Duo asked.

'Of course,' Wufei answered disdainfully.

'And? Come on. You can't stop there. Does she melt? Swoon? Faint with pleasure?'

'Don't ruin it.'

Duo's grin flashed at him in the dim bathroom light. 'It's a good story. I like it. I wondered what you were doing awake all night, chewing your cud over in the corner like a sullen cow.'

'I am not a sullen cow.'

' _Like_ a sullen cow.' Duo yawned into his sleeve. 'So you really do like her? I thought maybe so.'

'I don't know,' he admitted cautiously. He swirled his razor in the soapy sink water and carefully scraped the last patch of hair from his upper lip. 'I like her as a person. She's like you, like this place. Although I don't think she'd ever stoop to what you did, just to make me jealous.'

'I honestly thought it would work. And don't get me wrong, Ortega's a stone fox. I've definitely done worse.' Duo reached past him for his cheap toothbrush, but only twaddled it between his fingers. 'I appreciate that in the grand scheme of things you kept your tantrum pretty contained. The guy's probably shitting bricks about whether you'll tattle on him, though.' He peeked up at Wufei from under his fringe. 'You won't do, will you?'

Wufei wiped lather from his face on a flannel and tossed it to the pile of dirty linens by the shower stall. 'I have no trouble accepting that it was entirely your fault.'

'Har har.' Duo grabbed the toothpaste and gave him a little shove with one hip. 'Stop hogging the sink. If we're not mad at each other, I'm done being sorry.'

'Have it to yourself, I'm finished.' He stepped out of the way and they manoeuvred around each other to get Wufei to the door. Once there, however, he looked back. Duo was squeezing paste onto the dry toothbrush, scratching idly at the scabbing scar on his belly, there at the edge of his sun-rays tattoo like a streak of red lightning from the navel. His knee was still swollen, the stitches stark black on pale skin, and Wufei had noticed that Duo wasn't putting his full weight on it, but the belly wound looked like it might actually be healing, finally. Ortega hadn't done poorly-- certain slips in judgment aside.

'Did he like it?' he asked.

Duo glanced up. He spat into the sink and wiped his mouth. 'Like-- it? Asking what I think you are?'

Wufei flushed. 'I meant-- the tattoo.'

'Oh.' Duo's teeth appeared in a slow grin. 'Yeah. You?'

'I don't remember you having it. Before.'

'I did. You'd just stopped sleeping with me by then.' Duo put a hand into the shower and flipped on the water. 'Tom likes ink, you know. Girls dig that kind of thing.'

'Shut up,' Wufei said, and tossed the door shut behind him.

 

**

 

They weren't entirely good with each other, though, and it kept showing in little ways as they went about their day. They didn't really speak in the taxi to Preventers Plaza, or on the lift up to Maquinna's office. They passed Ortega in the corridor, and all three men managed to keep their eyes on their shoes until the danger of having to say anything was escaped. Duo disappeared shortly after, with the excuse that he wanted to read the transcripts of their interviews with the spies they'd already interrogated. Wufei left him to it. He'd accrued considerable paperwork in just the past week alone, plenty to keep him occupied through the morning. They didn't even see each other again until noon, when Maquinna kicked him out to the cafeteria to satisfy a rumbling stomach. Duo was already there, stealing from a vending machine the way Wufei had seen him do a hundred times. Wufei watched him, ambivalent without even knowing what precisely he objected to.

Yes, he'd been angry. And hurt. First Duo's comments, that kiss to his cheek. Duo had said that he wanted Wufei to be happy, even if that meant going back to prison so Wufei's life would go back to normal.

Wufei had believed him. That was the anger. He still did.

And that, maybe, was what he couldn't figure out. If Duo really meant that, then why had he decided to seduce Ortega and stage that scene for Wufei to walk in on? It was merely a wonder that Duo had timed it so perfectly. But that was what Duo did, anticipate. Manipulate. He'd manipulated Wufei into almost forgiving him, and then--

Given him a reason to be angry enough, hurt enough, to send Duo away over his own conscience.

Wufei rubbed his nose, and left his stance in the hall. Duo heard him coming and straightened quickly, hand dipping behind his back to hide the bag of crisps he'd robbed. He relaxed when he saw who it was, and then tensed again, not quite looking Wufei in the eye. 'Hey,' he said. 'I did actually put my coins in, but it ate them.'

'Maybe I'll just risk my money in the queue, then.' Duo popped the bag open and offered it. Wufei took a crisp; it was oniony and salty, but even that was appetizing suddenly. 'I'll buy you lunch.'

'Okay.' Duo fell into step with him as they crossed the cafe to the buffet line. They joined a number of Preventers already shuffling through the queue with trays. Wufei took a damp plastic tray from the stack and passed it to Duo, and one for himself as well. 'Hey,' Duo said then, and poked him.

'Hey what?' Wufei glanced back, and finally put his finger on something that had been bothering him. 'You deliberately forgot to bring your cane.'

'Yes, but let's focus. I'm having kind of a breakthrough, I think, but I need you to check my logic.'

'All right.' He took plates for them both, and made his first selection from the buffet. Peanut noodles. Probably the consistency of paste and overly doused the way Westerns always treated any vaguely 'Asian' food, but he wasn't willing to diet on pizza for his entire stay on the colony. 'Start.'

'I was reading those transcripts, right. You've got six agents from various Earthly nations in lockdown, right.'

'Seven,' Wufei corrected, and dropped a gloopy pile of wilted spinach to his plate. 'Maquinna's men brought in another one this morning. He seems to be connected to the Saudis, but he's running circles around us. He was posing as a businessman working on international adoptions. He's even got a local lawyer.'

Duo waved that aside. 'Seven. Out of however many-- probably enough to fill this room. Look, I know I said you could send me back now and all, but I hate leaving a project half-finished. So get this. Something Cloudwalker said was eating at me. You remember it? He said they'd all be stupid not to be working together this time around.'

'I suppose I remember. When does the logic start?'

Duo slopped several spoonfuls overbaked ziti onto his plate and followed it with a thick coating of white sauce. 'So-- what if he's actually right? I mean what if it's actually possible for there to be some global conspiracy?'

Wufei actually felt a chill creep down his back. 'What's the likelihood, though?' he argued. They reached the end of the buffet and split from the trail of Preventers to go to the drinks coolers. Wufei pulled down a sparkling water without looking at the brand; Duo let out a little crow and displayed a Rescue. He put two on his tray. 'Think about it,' Wufei added then. 'It's not even just the individual intelligence agencies that would have to cooperate, but their governments.'

'That's the naïve view, I suppose.' Wufei felt the slightest tug at his behind, and then Duo leant past him to present Wufei's wallet to the check out clerk. 'Pay the lady. Governments don't have to know what's just going to make them anxious. Picture the idea tree, right? One guy gets a brilliant idea one day. Ma'am, I've got to get one of those cookies too. Thank you. One guy gets a brilliant idea, but he probably can't bankroll it. So he goes to another guy and says give me all your rich friends. And the rich friends say that sounds like a mighty fine idea, but we want some reassurance if this all goes south. So they go to their guy in the State Department, and he's so corrupt he's got his head up his own ass so far he can smell it.'

Wufei gestured to a table, and they began to walk toward it. 'Get past the folksy rhetoric to the point, please,' Wufei said. He chose the chair facing the broad windows over the city and sat.

Duo slid into the seat opposite him, pushing back the hood of his sweater and popping the top of the first Rescue can. 'Okay. So by the time the original guys are buying guys in the government, they realise that if this ever gets out, they'll all go down, and the surest way to get found out is to run afoul of that lone moral soul who somehow makes it into public office. So they couch it in some kind of bullshit humanitarian aid package, very minor, very unobtrusive, the kind of thing that gets tacked on to a completely unrelated bill in Parliament--'

'Like Section VI.'

'Maybe,' Duo nodded. 'Why not? Everyone's so pissed about the big numbers no-one's going to waste time whining about the odd billion or two. But someone still has to go around drumming up support for their amendment, right, so off goes our guy--'

'Which guy? The original guy or the ones with the money--'

'Focus, Wufei. Our guy has the sort of friends you'd expect him to have. They set him up with a guy in Tel Aviv who says sure, I can buy a guy in the Knesset. Then our guy and their guy in the Knesset hop over to America and talk to a guy in the Senate who owes some debt to some people with ties to Israel and they tell him that favour's come calling and this is how he can get it off his back. So he goes and talks to a guy over in China, and China brings in Iran and the Saudis and the Koreans and, you know, all of Africa that's not busy imploding, and all those guys go to their allies, and then without anything ever so much as touching the edges of an actual vote, there's global backing for invading L2 and taking us the fuck over. And it's all being run by nineteen guys in a dark room somewhere who've probably never even been in Space.'

'All right, so--'

'But here's where I start questioning myself. Because yeah, it could all be about the short term gains of chaos for cash. But it could also be about--' There was nearly a minute long pause, then, as Duo drained the Rescue gulp by gulp. Wufei tapped his fork impatiently until Duo sighed gustily. 'Also be about the long term. Damaging relations. Parliament only really holds its own on good days, and if someone manages to start a war over L2 it's not going to be good days in the Hague. I mean, we could be looking at someone trying to foment genuine anarchy. It sure as hell wouldn't be a huge jump, you know? I already proved what can happen when there's only one guy who really knows the whole story. Imagine what a bunch of people pulling the strings can do.'

Wufei stared at him, suddenly nauseous.

'You eating that?' Duo asked then. 'Not the spinach.' He slid a long peanut noodle from Wufei's plate, dangling the end over his mouth and slurping it in.

There was no way to find those men, Wufei knew. Until they made their move, anyway, and by then it would probably be too late to really stop them. And any attempts to do so might result only in pushing them back underground-- as had happened with Dekim Barton, who had made himself scarce for a year when the original Operation Meteor had been disrupted by the unanticipated coup within Alliance, and the enemy had changed almost beyond recognition. The best that could be hoped was that these conspirators of Duo's would be men of ego, men who would so badly want credit for their actions that they would slip up and find themselves vulnerable and in the open. But it wasn't Wufei's nature to hope for the best, and it wasn't in his job description, either.

He pushed his plate aside, firmly when Duo tried to keep it for himself. 'We can eat later. Right now I want you to do something for me.'

'Here? It's kinda public for that, but if that's what you want...'

'No jokes,' he said impatiently. 'You set me up with that story just now and you don't even expect me to just walk away from it, so at least play to the finish. I want you to go back to the beginning now and review everything we've learnt since we came on colony.'

'All right,' Duo agreed pleasantly, gently even. 'But I am going to need to eat. I can talk and do that at the same time, though.'

It took them the rest of the afternoon, actually, and Wufei had to wrestle with the Supplies distribution to get paper pads, markers, and even a dry-erase board for diagramming. Maquinna joined them eventually; he had many questions at first, and was openly sceptical, but slowly began to quiet and finally contributed nothing at all but a troubled scowl. But the product they came up with was worth the effort. Wufei had filed official reports with less detail and organisation, and he was more than satisfied that Duo had given up every modicum of intelligence he had.

They had charted every gang on the central colony and on every satellite, and charted all their known associations, too. From the gangs they'd gone to the cartels, with pride of place to the cartel Duo had unsuccessfully infiltrated. Duo drew a frowning face with an out-stuck tongue by their underlined name, until Wufei erased it. Like a trapped fly in a spider's web, they charted the police units between gangs and cartels, with a large 'question mark' sketched by Maquinna's insistence to stand in for their lack of hard knowledge of which units could truly be called corrupt.

The political angle was harder to fill in. The death of Senator Milchect was essentially a mystery. Political associations were all much murkier than the relatively obvious ties between gangs and cartels, who could be relied on to count ethnicity, money, and proximity as motivation. Both Duo and Maquinna, who were in positions to know, insisted the only link between the dead Parliamentarians was the upcoming vote on Section VI, and Wufei accepted the logic. It left holes, however. Why those particular representatives? Was it truly meant to be a signal, or was it just a brute-force method of eliminating votes on what would surely be a close ballot?

'Well,' Duo said to that, 'let's ask two questions first. One: is it possible to prove? Probably not to the standards of a warrant, but I think we could eliminate the other potentialities. Two: is it worth the time of doing? You know what, scratch that. It doesn't really matter if we can prove it or not, because it doesn't really matter what the reason is. So the real two questions are, is it worth the time figuring out how close the vote really is, and who do we tell if we chance onto something important in the maths?'

'Command,' Maquinna said promptly. 'They'll decide what action to take.'

'Undoubtedly,' Duo nodded. 'But probably not until after the vote, and probably not until after the war the vote's going to start. Preventers are better at putting fires out than actually preventing them. So I'll ask again. Who do we tell-- that can actually do something about it?'

Wufei chewed at a ragged fingernail before he caught himself at it. He pressed his hands between his knees. 'Quatre Winner.'

'Kitty Quat?' Duo sat back slowly, his expression considering, eyes abstracted. 'It's not that I object to him personally, but is he really placed highly enough to do us a solid?'

'I'm reporting directly to him. I know he's highly invested in our success. If anyone could convince Command to--'

'Look, tell him if you want, but I'm talking big hoses here.' Duo beat a rhythm on the edge of the table. 'Cloudwalker, time to make or break. Are you in?'

The lieutenant reared back, surprise evident in his heavy brows before suspicion replaced it. 'Me?'

'You, bro. This is your outfit. You have an idea by now how much work you've got ahead of you and how much you let slip by while you were busy patting yourself on the back for catching it last time. But let me lay this out for you.' Duo leant forward toward the two Preventers, pushing their charts aside. His finger made a point, dirty nail tapping the table. 'I get the operation the way you've been running it. You deal with the mess by triage. Whatever bleeds worse gets the bandage and the time. But you're not looking at a bleed anymore. This isn't about cutting off a limb to save the rest, even. Think bigger.'

'I hate metaphors,' Maquinna muttered sourly. 'Fine. I take the point. I still don't see why you think I'm the answer to all of L2's ills.'

'I'm saying be part of the solution or give up the ghost. You know how many Preventers they sent to bring _me_ down eight years ago? I was worth an entire unit, and I was one man.'

'You were one man and an entire conspiracy full of names you never revealed,' Maquinna retorted. 'In my humble opinion they should have tortured it out of you.'

'It's been tried, and by people who didn't abide by the Geneva Convention. OZ had goons twice your size and four times as angry, Injun Joe.'

'We're getting afield,' Wufei warned.

'My point was that it took an entire unit of your most capable to shut it down last time. You're up against a very well-funded group this time. You need to throw numbers at it. You _need_ to throw numbers at it. That's the one thing that the other side doesn't have to commit, yet. It's your one advantage. In their wisdom your Command saw fit to put two guys on colony, and implant or no implant we are neither invincible nor--'

'Implant?'

Wufei exhaled through his nose. 'Classified.'

'Slip. Sorry. I'm sorry,' Duo said. 'Shit.' He fell back in his chair, thumbnail between his teeth.

'The point he's making is valid, though.' Wufei carefully gathered the papers they'd made. 'Two of us are enough to investigate. Not to get results. We've done everything we can without committing real resources. We could probably wrap this up in a few more months--' He hesitated, remembering what Duo had said about sending him home. 'And all credit to your people here, I'm sure it would be an effective enough cleansing, at least of the foreign agents, the spies sent here to stir up trouble, and that given enough time and a close watch the violence between the gangs and the police would die down to normal levels. Until they think we're not watching closely enough any more, and they try again.'

Cloudwalker's mouth was a dark slash. 'I don't have the authority to put an entire posting on one case. Even if I accepted-- even if I-- agreed with your assessment--'

'Which you do.' Duo popped the lid of his second Rescue at last, drinking several swallows before speaking again. 'Think it over. You can have all the time you need, as long as it's not longer than a few days. Because it's going to take you a week at least to argue Command around, and you'll need to carb up before you take on Goliath.'

 

**

 

Duo found him that evening, standing aimlessly in a hall that happened to have broad windows overlooking the Preventers parking lot. Wufei was tired, mentally, but physically keyed up. It had been a long day-- long month-- of demanding brain work. He'd just left Cloudwalker's office after a call that really ought to rank top amongst bad contacts with Command. Quatre, as he'd predicted, had immediately supported Cloudwalker's request to drop all their current cases for one single mission. It had been a valiant try, and a glowing testament to his trust in Wufei-- and Duo. And just like Duo had predicted, it had been one tiny voice rapidly drowned in an ocean of shouted dissent from everyone else in the room.

Well-- excepting Noin. Wufei would never understand her priorities.

So now really the very last thing he wanted to top off the evening was Duo, who arrived dragging a lobster-red DeAngelo Ortega by the back of his uniform. The medic was making a dedicated attempt to flee, and Duo's heavy-chested panting wasn't entirely faked. He swung Ortega to face Wufei, held him there by the shoulders, and said, 'Everyone apologise now.'

'Duo,' Wufei complained.

'No. This is stupid. He thinks his career is over, and he didn't even cum.'

Now Wufei was red-faced, too. 'Duo,' he repeated, through gritted teeth.

'Sir,' Ortega blurted. 'I didn't know-- I mean, I wasn't thinking clearly last night--'

'You weren't supposed to be,' Duo said patiently. 'Which is why Agent Scarab isn't going to report you to anyone. You didn't abuse me, you didn't demand sexual favours for buy offs, and, as previously stated, you didn't otherwise “benefit” from the compromising nature of our relations.' Duo turned a stern look on Wufei from behind Ortega's head. 'And you agree with me that Preventers care too much anyway about silly little things like who bumps whose uglies. It's not their business. Which is why you won't report him to anyone.'

'No,' Wufei admitted, grudging only Duo's smug smile, not Ortega's patent relief. 'I never planned on making accusations. In particular because it would take a year at least for any indictment and I really wish to be done with this colony by then.'

'Problem solved,' Duo interrupted happily. 'DeAngelo, no hard feelings?'

Ortega was recovered enough to roll his eyes at that, though he ducked his head when he noticed Wufei noticing. With a mumbled good-bye, he made himself scarce as he could at a dignified run.

'I liked him,' Duo observed. 'Good cologne. Well.'

'Well,' Wufei repeated darkly.

'I think you'll agree-- certain very, very minor incidences aside-- that I've been very good the past few days.'

There was truly no point in holding out. It was one of Duo's real charms, that grinning determination to wear down an opponent's every objection and resistance. It was more attractive when it was aimed at someone else, though. 'I surrender,' he replied, and did. Duo girlishly clapped his hands together. 'Oh, stop that.'

'But I am glad, Wufei. Now reward me.'

'You weren't that good.'

'I'd say I was. I just got you an army, didn't I? And Cloudwalker's committed to your side, all nine incompetent feet of him. I deserve a treat.'

He had to stop himself form smiling. It was an effort to keep a neutral face. 'More Rescues? Or a special dinner? You friend Tom's restaurant for dessert?'

'All good ideas, but I've already got something in mind.' Duo stepped close. 'Come someplace with me, Wufei. Please.'

'Where? What place?'

'I haven't been there since before prison. I just want to see it again. With you.'

This request felt familiar. 'You've asked before.'

'And I earned it. I tried, anyway. Listen-- look, Wufei--' Duo's eyes drifted to the window, his lower lip raw between his teeth. 'You really ought to send me back. Soon, I think. Eventually it's going to be more trouble than it's worth, having me here. So just-- before that-- I just really want to see it again first.'

Wufei tilted his head back on his neck. Dull ache, tendons stretching and protesting. 'Go call for a cab. I'll go get our coats.'

The ride was silent. Wufei knew where they were going when Duo gave the driver the address, but though they drove for nearly an hour to Jerayesh Regional Quad, he couldn't really think of any appropriate conversation. Duo, too, was silent. Not meditating or even absorbed in internal reflection, as Wufei might have been at such a time-- merely quiet and still. Remembering his own frustrated accusations the day Duo had broken into Keawe's office, he thought also of Duo's answer-- that it had taken seven years in prison to make him like that. Wufei wondered, looking at him in the dark cab-- in seven more, who would Duo be? When would the Duo he knew quietly diappear? Not even Duo was indomitable. No man could be.

He forced his gaze to the windscreen before he found himself wishing that Duo would be.

They exited the taxi a block from the memorial and walked the rest of the way. Wufei decided not to object, though Duo limped the last several yards of it. He knew why they were doing it that way. So they went at Duo's pace, and up the scarred concrete steps to a raised dais in the otherwise empty lot. There was an ugly wire fence half-heartedly projecting the property from other approaches, but people-sized holes and a litter of broken beer bottles inside the perimetre belied the obvious weaknesses. The entire lot had the same air of neglect-- something begun with good intentions, but unmanaged now, and forgotten.

The memorial itself was little more than a plaque pegged to a large chunk of standing wall from the original building. There was a bit of roof attached still, buttressed with unadorned steel girders, but the innards were hollowed out, all signs of what had happened inside erased by Federal clean-up crews decades ago. In the dark there was no way to scan for fire-blasts on the concrete. Everything smelled of industrial dust, not death. Wufei was glad.

No wonder Duo had seemed jaded, that day they'd found the bodies of the teenaged gang of St Mary's.

'Are you all right?' he asked finally. He didn't like the way his voice didn't carry, here, didn't echo. He touched Duo's arm, then his shoulder. He squeezed gently.

Duo nodded once. His chin stayed high, as if ready to perform another incline, but it never did. He said, 'I just wanted to be sure it was still here. We can go now.'

'I don't mind.'

'I know.' Duo hunched his shoulders, then exhaled deeply. 'Thanks. Thank you.'

'Of course.'

'Not of course.' Duo reached up for his hand, and kept his fingers. 'There's no such thing as “of course” on L2, not an “of course” that means anything good anyway. It's more like-- do we bomb the church, even though there's kids and old men and nuns inside? Of course. Do we shoot at children because they might grow up to shoot back? Of course. Do I keep fighting even if there's nothing left to win now? Of course.'

'Duo.'

'No, look, just listen here, because it's important and I've been trying to tell you, and if I go back to that fucking asteroid with nothing else I at least want you to have listened to this. Do you remember what you told me once, about how you felt, what happened to you when your colony destroyed themselves?'

'I don't-- want to talk about that.'

'But you need to. You need to, or you're never going to understand.' Duo spoke with real urgency, in a way Wufei had never heard from him before. He couldn't shake his head, turn away, ignore it-- Duo was all but begging him, gripping him tightly, his eyes boring into Wufei's. 'Listen. I still remember it, word for word. You said that everything you'd ever thought was a reason to fight vanished into dust, and that everything you did after that was useless, because you didn't know how to find the answers yourself. You even quoted to me from the Dao, do you remember it? You said how in the Dao even successful weapons are unblessed, that the one who follows the Dao would refuse to use a weapon, or if he did use he would only use it as a last resort, to protect his people.'

'I was a child then. I don't--' Duo was staring at him. 'I don't even remember saying it, Duo. I haven't read the Dao in ages.'

'That's okay. It's okay. But think about what you meant, saying it then. What you were really saying was that by martyring themselves they invalidated the Gundam they'd built, yes? Because in your mind then, in your teaching, you can only fight a war if there's still someone alive to protect by it.'

'I don't--' Oh, Duo's eyes. He couldn't say no. 'Yes,' he said voicelessly. 'I suppose so.'

'Yes. Yes. But you see, when I was here-- when this happened here, but I wasn't here, and I saw it happen just like you saw it happen, what I felt was exactly the opposite. Yes, they're gone, and I don't believe in their ghosts or their heavenly spirits, but the importance of it was even bigger because there was still someone alive who had known them and who knew and understood. You see? It's like-- it's like I could have walked away from it, but the fact is that they had existed, and it was here and so the here of it is important, too, has worth, and so this place, it needs to survive. Someone needs to make it survive. And I'm the only one who really knows that, aren't I? So I was the one who had to do that.'

'I understand,' Wufei said softly.

But Duo overrode him, still in that driven strident way, getting it all out in a torrent now. 'Except I'm not able any more. I tried and I failed and I had to go away, but when I was gone it was in danger again, wasn't it, in danger from all the people who don't know enough to care about it. So do you really see? You really see why I brought you here, why I wanted you to see it? It's so important, Wufei. I know you don't see it. I know you don't agree, but all the same, you have to take it for me now. You're the only one who can do this for me. You've got to fight for L2. No-one else will. Keawe, Cloudwalker, they think they are, but they're not fighting for this. There's no-one fighting for this now. And I can't just let it vanish.'

He stopped Duo by pressing their mouths together. He hadn't even known he would do it, until he was. He kissed Duo, hands to his flushed cheeks first and then on his shoulders, and then wrapping around him. He could feel Duo's heart pounding frantically through his chest. 'Shh,' he whispered. 'It's all right, Duo. I understand.'

 

The hotel was starting to feel like home.

The laundry he'd sent out with the maid had come back, freshly bagged in sheer plastic, shirt collars crisp and slacks pressed to sharp lines. New towels were neatly folded on the rack, and the bed linens smelled clean, like lavender. Small foil-wrapped mints sat squarely on each pillow.

He couldn't remember, for a long minute, what his apartment on Earth looked like.

'You want the shower first?' he said.

'No.' Duo didn't quite hide from him, but it was no accident his back was already turned before the suite door closed them in. 'Thought I'd catch the last of the news.'

That was as much as either could do for conversation. Wufei hesitated awkwardly a moment more. Then he left Duo to it. He felt dim, weary relief in shedding his uniform. His shoes released swollen feet, his belt left behind an impression of weight even removed. He turned on the water to let it warm, and then simply stood naked in the middle of the bath, settling slowly into his own tired body. The chill seeped away as hot steam replaced it.

'You getting' in?'

He didn't even jump, though his heart thought about it, lurching just once before giving up the pretence. 'I thought you were watching the news.'

'I did. Over at eleven, though.' Duo ventured near enough that his shadow touched the mirror. 'You stopped doing all that Chinese voodoo on my back. Didn't think of it before, except Housekeeping moved all the stuff to the table.'

He'd rather forgotten. 'It's been a busy week.'

'Yeah, but... you gonna start again?' The shag mat shifted slightly as Duo nudged it with a toe. 'I promise not to bitch about it as much.'

Wufei remembered also then that he had hands, and that he was nude. He pulled a towel around his hips, and then pulled the elastic from his hair. 'If you like. If it helps you.'

'You don't have to. Just-- if you wanted—' Duo stepped back. 'Enjoy your shower.' The door shut softly behind him.

Wufei did take a considerable length of time to himself, but not intentionally. His brain was not functioning well. His thoughts were sluggish and profoundly un-profound, which engendered serious consideration that he was failing at something important. Those things Duo had said-- and how Wufei had chosen then to react to it-- were certainly worthy of--

Worthy deeds of unworthy men. Duo would never escape his disgrace and the things Wufei now contemplated invited the same to himself.

He did remember that passage in the Dao. Stilling War. Those who had the Dao did not rely on weapons.

Those who had the Dao did not rely on love, either. Never let your heart open with spring flowers, the poets had written. One inch of love is an inch of ashes.

It had been years since he'd felt this kind of intimacy, connection so tangible during physical contact. Not with Duo, maybe ever-- maybe from his own resistance to admitting a relationship of obligation. In love one was obliged to the other, and any obligation could become a burden as circumstances shifted.

Their room was dark, when he finally left the bath. The television was off. Banked quiet, but not the natural quiet sounds that accompanied sleep. Duo was still awake.

Wufei dried himself and left the towel in a heap under the sink. The heater was running to high, and his skin tingled warmly. He turned down his duvet and piled the pillows, but stood staring at them.

The Dao would say-- the sage does not resist the inevitable.

He slid knee to mattress and lowered himself carefully. He put his arm over Duo's shoulders, and rested his cheek against Duo's spine.

'You're in the wrong bed,' Duo whispered.

'No,' he answered. 'I'm not.'

'You don't have to.' Duo's hand covered his, tentatively. 'I still want you to. But I get it, if you don't.'

The reasons for resisting didn't even seem as important, somehow. Maybe they would, in the morning. Maybe he ought to wait, and a smart man, a career-minded man, would wait for the hard moments to pass so that irrevocable decisions weren't made by the heart.

He would probably always be who he was now, that man who asked the right questions with his head and never listened to the answers. But if Duo could be that brave, believe that much-- how could Wufei do less?

His palm followed the path of muscle and tendon down Duo's arm, then back again. He felt a warm ribcage, expanding and contracting with each new quickened breath. Then a slim thigh, little hairs catching at his hand as it passed; the cotton edge of loose sleeping shorts, that yielded to his fingers. Duo stopped breathing, then, as Wufei put his hand up the shorts and squeezed at the soft-solid flesh between Duo's legs. Then Duo's fingers fumbled at his ear, his hair. Duo turned his head and kissed him.

It was nothing like any of the times they'd been together before. Their relationship had been sexual from the start, but in time there had been sweet moments, slow moments. He thought now those moments had come as Duo's feelings for him had changed, grown. Deepened. He remembered dropping by Duo's apartment, not long before Duo had started to involve himself in the happenings on L2; there had been a lit candle on the table, a hot dinner Duo had cooked himself, wine. He'd joked about Duo's womanish ways. Duo had been unusually mild about the insult, smiling a little smile and saying Wufei had better check the 'tude at the bedroom door. It had been one of their better times together.

But this-- this was a Duo he'd never known. This Duo waited on him, instead of pulling him along. This Duo wanted to look at him, see his eyes, search for some answer Wufei didn't know if he had to give. Wufei almost lost the nerve to do it. Duo slipped from the bed, and Wufei wondered if he was having doubts, too. He almost verbalised it. But Duo had only risen to get the baby oil off the table. He stood at the edge of the bed with it, hand hesitantly offering it.

'Yes,' Wufei said. He took the bottle. Duo slid onto the bed, but then he turned onto his side again, his back to Wufei, his eyes turning over his shoulder. Not coy. Not calm, either. Wufei wet his hand with the oil, and his sex, and led with a finger where he meant the rest of him to go. Duo clasped his wrist and pulled Wufei's arm tight about him. It was awkward, like that, but intimate, and so they lay feeling each other's bodies adjusting to something familiar and new. He laid closed-mouth kisses on Duo's shoulders, pressed his hand to Duo's heart, to the sun rays and barbed wire at his navel. When he touched lower, Duo whispered to go on. They shifted, each in silent accord. He pushed deep enough to reawaken truly sexual desire, and Duo's breathing became laboured, hot. He laved Duo's salty skin with his tongue, and Duo fisted a hand in his loose hair, gripped the back of his neck, his haunch, digging with his fingernails until Wufei was panting. Heat was building everywhere their limbs met, Duo's ankle on his calf, his hand slicking in Duo's pre-come, his hips to Duo's clenching buttocks. Duo came first, as he almost always had, exhaling a sharp 'Ah,' and arching his spine as he expelled his orgasm. He never protested that Wufei took longer, and after a moment he reached with renewed strength, urging Wufei to move faster, harder if he wanted. Wufei pushed him flat on his belly, their legs tangling together, his fists slowly ripping the fitted sheet from the mattress. He was near to tears of frustration when he finally came, choking his outcry in Duo's hair. He had to pull away then, too raw for even the slightest rub of the sheets. Duo lay where Wufei left him, still and quiet.

Shouldn't have, Wufei thought dimly. Shouldn't have.

'Stop thinking,' Duo whispered. 'You're ruining it.'

'I didn't already?'

Duo shifted toward him. He rested his head on Wufei's chest. His finger brushed Wufei's nipple in a small circle, and then covered him flat. 'No,' he said.

He lowered his cheek to the crown of Duo's head. 'Why did you want that?' he asked. 'That, instead of this.'

'That is this.' Duo's limp organ brushed his leg, leaving a small impression of wetness that dried almost immediately. 'When I told you before-- about what it's like there-- it's not like this. This was only ever with you. And the rest of the time I wish it was you. Self-doubt and all.'

'Duo.'

'I miss that,' Duo murmured. 'You're the only one who ever says my name like that. You're the last one I'll hear it from, going back.'

Going back.

'Not tonight.' Duo kissed his chest. 'Sleep, okay. I'll be here in the morning.'


	9. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'Because people know about the implant!' Duo exploded. 'Because I fucking made sure they would. I even got videotape out there. Someone's going to come out of the woodwork looking to get their hands on it, and the longer you keep me here the greater the danger they will.'_

'You'll be headed to Earth tonight?' Wufei asked.

'Only my fourth trip, you know,' Keawe answered. He pulled his already tied necktie from the coat hook and draped it over his neck. 'I'm attempting to get past screaming on entry.'

Wufei smiled stiffly. 'A unique experience. Earthers never seem to anticipate we might object to a gravity well.'

'Not personally,' Keawe deadpanned. 'My stomach, now, that's another story.' He ran a comb through his thick hair, shrugged into his jacket, and spread his arms. 'How do I look?'

'Presentable,' was Wufei's opinion. 'Except that your shoes are still dirty.'

'My shoes, he says! Wait, I didn't never tell you that story?' Keawe paused-- for dramatic effect, Wufei was sure, though the man spent the seconds innocently swallowing the last of his morning coffee. 'These shoes are the first spiff-ups I ever bought on my own cash. Had a pair I got from campaign funds when I first ran for Commons, but these babies are all mine. Cost me a pretty penny, too, but I was so sure it was worth it. Shoes making the man, et cetera. And I'd had them on for all of a morning when I got got called down to a protest at a construction site. Now these were my people, man, I mean these were folks I'd grown up with, men who still knew me from my paper route, nicking gum out of their corner stores. I get there and they're mad, they're steaming, and this old Mister Cartwright, meanest SOB I'd ever known, he gets right up in my face and accuses me of selling out the real colonists to these jumped-up Earther imports who wanted to knock down homes and put up strip malls. Well, he was half right, cause that's exactly what they were trying to build there, but I was so green I'd've bled sap if I'd signed something authorising this mess. But I gotta respond, you know, can't let a riot get started my first month in, so I leap up onto this hill of dirt and mud and what the hell ever and I give 'em the speech of my life. I'm preaching on the Mount to these folks and they're just eating it out of my hand, like L2 for the natives but we gotta look change in the eye, and I'm promising them public forums and votes and fucking blue-blood democracy, man, I'm seeing the light. Someone tapes it with a mobile phone and next minute I'm on television, next big thing-- some liberal radical nutjob who wants to lead the poor in a good old-fashioned Marxist revolution.'

Wufei found he believed the story in spite of the joking exaggerations. Keawe might not have been quite the inspired natural he claimed, but he had an appealing cadence, a storyteller's inherent sense of rhythm and balance, and it wasn't hard to imagine him turning a hostile crowd on little more than the charming smile and idealistic promises. Keawe had the talent, and the ambition to be heard.

'So, the shoes?' he asked.

'Totally fucking ruined by my stunt in the mud.' Keawe winked at him. 'But I thought it was a good lesson. You can look smart or lead well, but doing both at once may not be in the cards.'

Wufei kept his silence on that one. 'When does your flight leave?' he asked instead.

'Technically, at six, but that new bodyguard you suggested I hire came up with some Sherlockian notion of sending a look-alike on the advertised flight, and me quietly along at nine.'

'Wise. Your new guard has had experience dealing with the media.'

'I've had a very pointed lecture on the benefits of a little harmless deception. I do wonder what they're paying the look-alike, though, to be a walking target. I mean, does the guy actually know what he was hired for?' Keawe buzzed his secretary. 'Aimee, which meeting got switched with which?'

_'Budget overview of the Credit Union is moved to four, and you've got the Office of Justice Programs in five.'_

'I'm on my way.' Keawe came around his desk to Wufei's seat on the leather couch. Wufei rose, and they clasped hands. Keawe's grip was strong. 'You'll watch the vote?' the man asked him. 'Gonna be a fire-cracker.'

'I wouldn't miss it,' he promised. 'Good luck, sir.'

'Bren. And thanks, Agent. Truly.' Keawe clapped him on the shoulder. 'I wish you the best.'

 

**

 

'It's not flowers and a valentine,' Duo observed. 'Think it'll do anyway?'

Wufei hung his coat in the little hall closet, eyeing the spread of food Duo had brought up to their suite. There was even a whole pitcher of juice, no doubt conjured from the front desk with more of that L2 charisma. 'Uh,' he asked. 'Are we eating together?'

'I thought...' Duo's head turned away. 'Look,' he said finally. 'If you're feeling weird about sending me back, don't. I don't care.'

'Sending-- Duo--' Wufei made it three steps into the room before his feet stopped working. 'Look,' he repeated awkwardly. 'Last night--'

Duo met his eyes squarely. 'I was asleep last night,' he said. 'When you came in.'

His mouth stopped working then, too. 'What?' he managed.

'All the news last night was about Section VI. Boring. I went right to sleep.' Expressionless, but with a peculiar unspoken emphasis. 'Eat your breakfast,' Duo added then. 'I'll shower now.'

He felt only a brush of ions as Duo passed him to the bath. He stood locked in indecision long enough for Duo to follow through. The water turned on, and then the bathroom lock clicked, effectively shutting him out. Wufei exhaled slowly. Damn, he thought.

He hadn't expected that. Duo was too fast for him-- and too fast to assume-- assume-- that Wufei wouldn't overcome the worst in himself gracefully or in a timely manner. But what it had cost Duo to outright lie about something obviously important to him, Wufei didn't know. Any good he'd done last night, any reach of compassion and companionship, he'd just undone by standing still.

'Idiot,' he said softly. 'You really are an idiot.'

It was probably too late to really undo the damage, but he could get ahead of making it worse. Duo had forgiven him far more than momentary stupidity before. The fire cups and all the herbs for the tea were moved to one of the bedside tables. Duo had brought that up, and it was an intimate enough act to remediate his blunder. And it would still be useful, even if Duo were to-- go back-- immediately.

Another slow breath for that, from deep in his seizing gut.

He laid out Duo's bed for the cupping, making it as obvious as possible so that Duo would see it as soon as he left the bath. He warmed the baby oil in a styrofoam cup of hot water from the sink, and prepared a hotter boil in the kettle for the tea. He set a stick of incense to burn on the edge of the table, and soon their room smelled like rose. He ate, then, forcing down the dry egg beaters and an unbuttered English muffin. He was nervous. Seduction was hardly a natural talent of his, and the last shreds of surety he'd felt last night had fled in the face of his mistake. Now he was plagued with questions he hadn't been bothered with before-- real questions, real worries, about his career, about-- how he would feel when he had to return to Earth alone, knowing a man he unquestionably still had feelings for was good as gone one more time.

It had been hard when they'd first sent Duo to prison. Hard because there had still been so much shock at revelation after revelation of just how deeply Duo had deceived everyone. Him. Betrayal, because he'd defended Duo, and Duo had let him--

No. Duo had warned him. Had looked him in the eye, just like minutes ago, and told him that whatever happened, it wasn't Wufei's fault one way or the other. No-one's ever made me do anything I didn't want to, Wufei, not even once.

He heard the snick of the door, and then an inhale that shook. 'You don't have to,' Duo said.

Wufei ran a fingertip around the cool glass edge of a cup. 'May I ask you something?'

Duo came nearer. Towel around his waist, another over his shoulders. Wet fringe, but the braid was dry. He never took it down unless to clean it. It wasn't hair. It was a symbol, and symbols couldn't change without altering the meaning.

'Ask me anything,' Duo said simply.

'The first time, here. What made you decide to become involved? Why did they come to you?'

Duo sat on the edge of Wufei's bed. 'Tough questions,' he answered at length. 'You never asked before.'

'I suppose I thought I knew.'

'There's a place here called Swallow Falls. I always liked the name. Gets a lot of jokes.' Duo dried his hair with lazy squeezes of his hands. 'I was asked to meet some men there. I went because it's better to go and know the faces of any men who might have a grudge later. We met in the middle of the day, outside a bar, because all of them were out of work and had been for months. Didn't even have the money to go inside to drink, but they still went there to stand outside, so they wouldn't have to be home feeling like failures.'

Wufei sat, too, facing Duo. 'Who were they? White Fang? Resistance?'

'Just men, Wufei. Just guys who kept their noses out of politics and war until it finally caught up with them, a decade after it was over. All they wanted were jobs. Just honest work.'

'Then... why go to you?'

'Wasn't anyone else. Wufei... this colony... I don't deny it's better now than ever in my lifetime. But the people here were all alive too when the Feds let out viruses on the civie population but wouldn't sell the vaccine, and we were alive when they took over the schools for their Earther kids and they imparted their food and their cars and their air, even. The Feddies changed L2. And even after the Feds were gone, it never really changed back. Jobs still go to Earthers first. Why not? They're the ones who got the educations. But even the contracts for industry kept going to Earth, because even with the shipping costs they low-balled all the colonial bids. We can't build, we can't mine, we can't even scrap worth a damn. And Relena Peacecraft-- God bless her, Wufei, sometimes I think Relena was the worst of all, and she never even knew it. All the colonial charity campaigns she set up-- like used clothes for resale here? She flooded the market with cheap shit from Earth, and it destroyed the textile industry. All anyone on L2 wanted was to work for a real living wage. Those men, one of them started crying while he was talking to me. These men—' Duo's eyes were sheened, too. 'These men just wanted jobs.'

'But-- how from there to revolution? Why that leap?'

'Because we were never gonna have the kind of independence we needed without political freedom. Maybe I didn't help anything and maybe I at least woke people up. I don't know. I hope.' Duo pulled his towel tight over his shoulders. 'I hope.'

'So you were the guy. The guy who had the idea, who went to another guy and asked for access to the money to buy what you needed to make it happen, damn the consequences.'

'Everyone is that guy at some point. You bought guns from anyone who had 'em, during the war. We all did. Had to. Do we know what that money did out of our hands? I've wondered. Maybe as many people have died because of us as lived, because we fought for them. How do we ever know that?'

'You trouble me,' Wufei confessed.

'I've sure as hell been trying to.' Duo crouched at his feet, taking the glass from him and then clasping his hands. He pressed Wufei's palms to his cheeks. 'Thank you,' he said. 'For finally listening.'

'Duo.'

'Go pour my tea. But don't worry about the cups. Let's take a walk, okay? We'll drop in on Cloudwalker later to see if your Commanders have caved in and given him permission to do what he's gonna do anyway.'

 

**

 

'So tell me the truth about something,' Duo said, two hours later. They were on an ambling stroll on the far edge of the city, just beginning to leave the green-lined paths and prettily cobbled avenues for tarred streets and old concrete warehouses. They walked at ease with each other, Duo with his hands in his pockets, Wufei with his eyes on the solar panels far above their heads. The occasional bird-like object swooped high above in the grey air, but Wufei knew they were only the ancient air-test bots, a legacy from the earliest days in Space when filters had been known to fail. There were no living creatures on the colonies but humans.

'Wufei?' Duo prodded. 'Tell me the truth? Pleeeeease?'

'Maybe,' Wufei hedged cautiously. 'Is it a personal question?'

'Kinda. Just wondering if you really never got it on with Sally Po.'

'Duo, for goodness' sake.'

'Call me curious.'

'Call you dogged. Why are you so determined in this theory you have--'

'Because she's hotter than I am, and she sure ran a good campaign for your attention. Just wondering if she ever scored.'

Wufei rubbed his lower lip. It was chapped. 'If I tell you, either way, don't fuss at me.'

'Sure thing. Scout's honour.'

'Yes, then.'

Duo slapped him hard between the shoulder blades. 'I knew it!' he yelled, as Wufei tried to jump back into his skin. 'Jesus Almighty, I knew it. Damn it, Wufei!'

'You promised!'

'I forgot in the midst of my righteous outrage. When? Which of you topped?'

Wufei's face flooded with heat. 'Duo!'

'I deserve to know! I could have been swapping germs with Sally. Least you could is confirm.'

'Never at the same time as you.' Wufei rubbed the back of his neck, trying to will his blush away. 'I never asked who else you were sleeping with.'

'Because I never was with anyone else. I may have questionably loose morals, but I understand basic cleanliness.' Duo fold his arms in a sulk. 'Was she good? Who dumped who?'

'For all you know we're in a relationship.'

'You can barely commit your name to paper, much less contemplate linking your name to someone else's, and Sally's the marrying kind. She dumped you, man.'

'Yes,' he admitted grudgingly. 'And if it adds to your sense of triumph, it was barely two months.'

'It does, thank you.' Duo hit him again, though more gently now. 'Why couldn't you just tell me the last time I asked.'

'You didn't ask it, last time.'

'Well, I was jealous.' Duo brushed his wrist, enough to make his skin tingle, and no more. 'So-- if I may go one step further-- have you ever actually been with another guy, other than me?'

Any gains he'd made with his complexion vanished. 'Duo.'

'Is that your answer?'

'What's wrong with you?'

'Why are you so uptight about being gay? Who-- stop interrupting-- seriously, who is there who's gonna piss down on you for sucking cock? If you're worried they won't let you into Chinese heaven--'

'Duo.'

'I asked you to stop interrupting me. I was serious. Being gay or straight, it's just a fraction of your total you, and it's not like either of us have had time or opportunity to meet the community and join the parade. So why get so upset about it?'

'You don't understand,' he said stiffly. 'You never did. We've had this conversation. Dictation. A dozen times.'

'Well, you won't have to have it again soon, unless Tom really is a Tom.' Duo kicked at a pebble. It bounced down the street ahead of them. 'It's okay. If you're gay, not gay, whatever. I just don't see why it matters so much to you that no-one know the real you, even if the real you is just a guy who hasn't got it all figured out yet. By the way, I'm going to ask Cloudwalker to set a date for shipping me back.'

The sudden change of topic threw him off sync. 'What?'

'It'll take them a couple days to get the long-distance shuttle ready. I figure they can debrief me in flight. So probably the end of the week, if they move it along.'

'I understand that part,' Wufei said impatiently. 'Why are you going to Cloudwalker?'

'Because I've said it several times to you and you haven't acted on it. Did you think I was just being a martyr?' Duo stopped walking to face him. Wufei halted, too, one foot on the kerb he'd meant to mount. 'It's time, Wufei.'

'And if I disagree?'

'Then you're doing it for personal reasons,' Duo said bluntly. 'I appreciate the sentiment. But you need to axe it.'

'Why the urgency? You can't possibly want--'

'Of course I don't. But you need--'

'Enough with the dire warnings!' Wufei stepped off the kerb and into Duo's space, forcing him back a pace. 'Tell me outright why you're suddenly so desperate to leave L2.'

'Because people know about the implant!' Duo exploded. 'Because I fucking made sure they would. I even got videotape out there. Someone's going to come out of the woodwork looking to get their hands on it, and the longer you keep me here the greater the danger they will.'

'Want the implant?' A chill went up his spine, but at the same time, pieces were falling into place. He felt that at last he was seeing without obstruction. 'You planned this.'

'Yes, but I'm trying now to un-plan it.'

'For me?' he said contemptuously. 'How sweet.'

'Yes, for you!'

'Oh, my happiness is so important to you. You'd give up everything you said last night, the L2 of your dreams, because I might be inconvenienced by--'

'Yes. That's what I'm doing. Don't punish me for being both a traitor and a friend.' Duo rubbed his face. 'Let's at least get out of the street. I should have waited til we were inside somewhere—'

'Don't move,' Wufei said. 'No-- don't move.' He stopped Duo with a hand on his chest. 'Behind you, two armed.'

Duo didn't look. 'Affiliation?' was all he asked.

'They're young. I can't see-- both in red caps.'

'Gang. Might be nothing.' Duo flicked his eyes to a graffitied bus shelter nearby. 'If we can get over there, it'd be better.'

'Agreed. Stalk off. I'll follow.' Duo barely waited for him to finish. He threw up his arms and whirled away. Wufei gave it a few heartbeats before he followed. Still only the two young men watching them, but both carried their guns openly, big pieces that were loaded with, no doubt, armour-piercing shot. The plastic and glass shelter would shatter at the first impact.

Duo was in the shelter. He faced Wufei again, shoulder turned to the two watchers. The angle of his body blocked the direct line of sight, and kept Wufei momentarily hidden-- if there were no-one behind them. 'Give me your .32,' Duo said.

Wufei dropped the pose of argument and just pulled it free of the velcro holster, pressing it into Duo's waiting hand even as he drew his regular sidearm from his shoulder. 'Don't shoot to kill unless it's necessary.'

'If shooting starts, it'll be necessary.' Duo unlocked the safety. Then he gave Wufei a hard shove to the ground, and ran back into the street. Wufei, off-guard, didn't manage to recover fast enough-- he tripped on the bench and slipped to one hand on the ground before he caught himself. The first shot rang out like a thunder clap on a colony that didn't have weather systems. Someone yelled-- not Duo.

Wufei never even contemplated staying under shelter. He was out on Duo's tail in the street, chasing after a glimpse of grey jumper disappearing around a corner. The two gunmen were in the same pursuit, though, spraying bullets with no finesse. A handful of warehouse staff were bundling inside away from the violence, pulling down a steel door over their open workway and abandoning a truck full of merchandise. Wufei caught only a chaotic glimpse of resigned faces. He shouted to them, 'Call the police!' before he remembered which colony he was on, and just how unlikely that was to help.

He flung himself around a corner and fell over a body. It was one of the gunmen, bleeding badly from the leg, but alive and screaming. Duo had taken Wufei's command after all. Wufei left the teenager where he was and kept going. The sharp retort of gunfire was still ahead of him, echoing off the concrete walls and obscuring the source. He made a wrong turn up a dead-end alley and turned back, in time to make a narrow leap away from a car that came zooming past. Automatically he looked for the plates, but it had none, nor any distinguishing marks on the otherwise matte black exterior. Wufei chased it to the next block and turned away up another lane between warehouses. He jumped from the loading dock into the bay, and found Duo crouched behind an industrial waste bin, taking careful shots across the street with both Wufei's .32 and a gun he must have taken off the boy he'd wounded.

'I hope you used your time to phone Cloudwalker,' Duo grunted at him.

No. But he did it now, without arguing. He used text, typing without even removing the phone from his belt. He sent just a single sentence, their location and an urgent flag. 'Were they targeting us or are they just shooting now because you shot first?'

'I'll ask them around for dinner and we can chat about it. We've got bigger issues. You aren't the only one with a mobile. If we're pinned when their backup beats ours over here--'

'Stay down,' Wufei said, and came to his feet. Across the street, seeing his chance, the gang banger stood to fire at him. Wufei ducked, but Duo, head level with Wufei's knees, fired back low and unexpected. The teen went over with a yell, clutching a shattered trigger hand.

'Good shot,' Wufei said.

'Sucky,' Duo corrected, grinning brightly at him. 'I was aiming at his shoulder.'

Wufei laughed. 'You're out of practise.' He helped Duo to his feet. 'Let's get out of here before any of their friends show--'

Wufei knew the sound of a sniper shot. He heard it, reverberating everywhere, just as he felt a body knock against his in a full tackle. They hit the bin, he and Duo pressing him there. Then Duo slipped away, his legs crumpling under him. Wufei grabbed him as he sagged, dragging him back into a corner of concrete and iron. Another shot sprayed him with shards and garbage from six inches above, and then the world went silent.

'Duo,' he whispered. He tightened his awkward hold. He felt Duo's cheek on his shoulder, his breath. 'Where are you hit.'

'Back,' Duo mumbled. 'Shit. Never imagined.'

He fumbled his hand past the wad of cloth and hair that was Duo's hood, and found a thick wet spot with his palm just below Duo's shoulder blades. 'Can you breathe? Lungs?'

'Can breathe.' Duo was trying to get his limbs under him, moving sluggishly, drunkenly. 'You gotta get-- gotta set Cloudwetter—'

Wufei's cell was still clipped to his belt by the pull string. He had to tug it out from between them, and re-sent his first message. 'Don't make noise,' he whispered. 'If we play dead--'

'Shore,' Duo nodded. Wufei felt him swallow. 'No bobble.'

They were trapped by their position. No-one out there was making a sound, and the sirens were too far away to be for them. Too far. Anyone coming over the loading bay could shoot them like fish in a barrel. If the sniper came around from the street, the odds were better--

Tyres on the asphalt. Engine. It came tearing around the corner, squealing to a halt. The sniper pelted the car with shots-- shots that ricocheted off the armoured vehicle. Return fire began, the heavy punching shots of a 357.

'Agent Scarab!' a familiar voice called. 'Get to my car! Hurry!'

Keawe. Wufei didn't question the providence. 'Duo,' he said, and tried to get both of them on their feet at once. Duo struggled to help, but his legs stayed limp. Wufei did what he'd done their first night on colony-- he scooped Duo up with an arm under his knees, and he ran.

The sniper took out another chunk of the bin as Wufei came out from behind it. There was the unmarked car that had passed him before, now with the driver firing up at a four-storey offices a block away. Keawe's head peeked out of the darkness inside the cab. He flung open the door for them. 'Hurry!' he shouted again.

It was a near thing. Keawe grabbed at Duo's arm as Wufei shoved him awkwardly into the safety of the car, and Duo fell to the floor between the seats. Wufei climbed in over him, with Keawe scooting back to give him room. 'Go!' Wufei yelled, and the driver obeyed immediately, slamming into drive so hard they were thrown back in their seats. The open door was thrown shut as they sped away, shots pinging off windows and cab for a tense minute until they passed behind a new warehouse, and then into the safety of a shipping tunnel.

'You're one of the luckiest men I know, I think,' Keawe panted. 'A gang hit and a sniper, and you're not even breathing hard.'

Wufei barely listened. He had just enough room between the seats to straddle Duo, who lay on his side unmoving. 'Duo's shot,' he said. 'If-- it's a standard long-distance piercing round--'

'Fuck.' Keawe banged on the window. 'Hurry it, Tamara. Agent, how bad--'

'Duo.' Wufei found the wound again. His eyes were adjusting again to the dim, and he could see the blood at the entry site, but no exit. 'Assessment?'

'Noting I cork-- can't--' Duo's eyes closed tensely, his mouth a thin hard slash. 'Maybe not-- not haling much repose-- can't coordinate. Funny feeling.'

'You have dysphasia. Duo, can you understand me? Do you hear me right?' Wufei was already stripping his jacket to rip out the inner lining from its snaps. The aid kit that was prised away inside tacked free and he tore it open. The large, slim bag of plasma with the IV needle case was first, but he hesitated between it and the bag of pain killer. Duo wasn't feeling pain, of course, but his body's response still interpreted the stimuli, and if the implant, already taxed by the first weeks of operation, was somehow malfunctioning, interfering--

'We'll have help where we're going,' Keawe said above him. 'I promise. And I'm sorry about this, Agent. I'd really wanted to keep you out of it, but circumstances changed.'

'Keep me out of what?' Distracted, Wufei looked up. He was just in time to see a genuine regret in Keawe's face, right as the stun gun connected with his neck, and the charge of electricity blacked him out.

 

**

 

He woke very slowly, to an awareness that his head hurt.

_'Agent,'_ a far-away voice called. _'Agent, just lay still. You're not injured. It's just the after-effects.'_

He forced his eyes open. Carpet. On the floor? No, those were the walls. Blue carpet everywhere, tacked up sloppily, and nailed all over it cross-beams of steel. Ceiling with a bright light, that was what was hurting his head.

_'Agent, if you look to your left there's a bottle of water for you. It's still sealed, so you can trust its safety.'_

Immense effort to roll his head. Water, as promised. He didn't quite have control over his hand, reaching for it. He got the cap off mostly by tearing at it, and spilled on himself swallowing as much as he could. It was cold, and it cleared the fog from his brain. He rolled to his hands and knees and lurched to his feet from there.

'Keawe,' he said. 'Where are you?' Door. There was a door, barricaded. No latch on his side, blown off.

_'I'm outside,'_ Keawe's voice replied. Intercom. There, beside the camera recording his movement. _'I advise you to take it easy, Agent. Give that shock time to wear off.'_

'Where's Duo Maxwell?'

_'He's being taken care of. We're not cruel people. Agent, if you think you can control yourself, I'd like to come in there and talk to you.'_

What he had to control was the furious retort that jumped to his tongue. The advantages of having that door open and Keawe in reach far outweighed the brief pleasure of saying exactly where he'd rather Keawe go.

_'I'll take that as agreement,'_ the intercom said, and went silent. Not moments later, Wufei heard locks being manipulated, and the carpeted door sprang the jamb.

'There's guns on my side, so please don't rush the door,' Keawe called. Wufei moved back a grudging step, but kept his hands at his sides, not vulnerably high in the air. Keawe entered the cell, Tamara his guard behind him with a service revolver. But Keawe waved her back. 'Agent Scarab and I are just going to talk,' he told her. 'You're fine outside.'

'Sir,' she protested.

'You're placing a lot of trust in a very angry man,' Wufei said flatly.

'No, Agent. I'm expecting you to be realistic. You don't know where you are or where Maxwell is. Cooperation will do you a lot of good right now. Tamara, bring in those two chairs. You can't have a civilised conversation standing at each other like two fighters in the ring.'

Wufei took the folding chair he was directed to at gunpoint, and then Tamara reluctantly bolted them inside alone. Keawe sat back with crossed ankles, his coat draped open to show he was unarmed. His slicked hair had escaped its careful grooming, but it only made him look rakish, not dangerous. Wufei had to conclude he was very dangerous, indeed.

'Maxwell,' he said.

'You know, I designed this room for him, actually,' Keawe replied casually. 'I've heard more than enough about his resourcefulness, and we didn't know just how much he could do on the strength of that implant. It would have been a hell of a thing to see, I bet.'

His temper frayed. 'What the hell is this, Keawe?' he demanded. 'You've kidnapped a Preventer and a Preventer liaison. You'll spend the rest of your life in prison for this!'

'Only if you can prove it was me,' Keawe corrected, almost reluctantly. 'And you won't be able to do that. After all, the entire Sphere is watching my double step off the shuttle at Port Harrison, right about now, actually.'

He'd lost several hours, then. Modified stun gun. It explained the lingering ache and the loss of consciousness. He said, 'There are at least a dozen people who know you sent a double. Including the double himself. One of them will be happy to talk in exchange for a free pass out of jail.'

'I think you underestimate the loyalty of my people, but I could always be wrong, I suppose. No, Agent, actually I'm referring to what's going to be a much better story than some obscure Preventer tiff on a back-water colony. That double of mine stepping off the shuttle--' Keawe checked his watch. 'In just about two minutes-- He's going to be very visibly ill, Agent. He's going to be rushed to a secure hospital where they'll be very busy treating him for poisoning.'

His mouth was dry, but he couldn't absolutely trust even a sealed bottle, and he was afraid to drink more of the water. 'Why poison an innocent man?'

'You gave me the idea, actually. Well, you and Senator Milchect.'

'Milchect?' A tumbling rash of thoughts swept over him, broken and refusing to connect. 'Section VI.'

'When the last standing loud-mouth who planned to vote in favour of Section VI falls on the field in front of the entire world and the vote fails tomorrow morning, no-one will be all that worried figuring out which Keawe they're treating on Earth.'

'Fail,' he said faintly. 'You want Section VI to fail? Why...?'

'I don't want it to fail,' Keawe said harshly. 'L2 needs that fucking stimulus. We're drowning under our own weight in Space. But those cunts on Earth don't give a damn for the colonies. Section VI was never going to pass, even if someone out there hadn't panicked and started killing off supporters in Parliament. I can read the writing on the wall. We had seventy-nine sure votes, seven of those are ashes now, and there are two hundred and six still standing between Section VI and everyone who desperately needs it.'

'Then what are you doing here?'

'Everything I can!' Keawe sprang to his feet, pacing the two corners behind him like a tiger. 'If it fails big enough, if it fails because there's a boogeyman out there murdering voters and I can make just enough people believe it was all a conspiracy by the other side, then--'

'Riots in the streets,' Wufei finished.

'More than riots. Riots to begin it. Agent Scarab, riots aren't enough. I need a full-scale war.'

The bottom went out of his stomach. 'You're the one. You're the one who's been behind all of this. The foreign spies coming here, the violence between the police and the gangs--'

'No comment,' Keawe said, with a grim ghost of a smile. 'If you're asking if I was putting on an act all this time, no. I knew the broad outlines, but you and Duo Maxwell revealed more to me than I would ever have known-- more than certain personalities wanted me to know. And I'm grateful, Agent. There were injustices being perpetuated on the people least able to defend themselves. You and Maxwell brought that to my attention. I want you to know there will be compensation for the families of those dead children.'

'You can't bring them back,' Wufei returned softly. 'Paying off their loved ones is an injustice, too.'

Keawe regarded him silently for a long time. But then he nodded his agreement. 'No, you're right. But there is a bigger picture. And I don't forget the people who need me. It might take years to right the wrongs on L2, but I will.'

'How?' Wufei demanded. He stood, too, stepping aggressively to close the distance between them, close enough to tempt Tamara outside the bolted door. 'How do you right murder with more murder? How do you right poverty with war?'

'War is the only way! War is the only way we can convince the Earthers to stop using us as door mats! They don't respect us, Agent, they don't know or care whether we live or die. If they cared there'd never have been a year of debate about Section VI! There'd never be a hoard of greedy fuckers sending their spies to start taking chunks out of our hull as if we haven't bled to hold it together. Men like Maxwell who fought when no-one else would stand up-- we don't have heroes like that now, Agent, because they all died in the war. We gave up too many good lives, too many children and brothers, and Parliament is fucking us around on a shoestring budget because they think we ought to be grateful they gave us a vote at all.' Keawe was dangerously flushed, his voice rising to a shout and then, in sudden deadly calm, to almost a whisper. 'So we'll go to war with them. And we'll win. Duo Maxwell's going to give us the best weapon we could've asked for, outside a Gundam. We're going to use their own defence against them.'

The implant. Keawe knew about the implant.

Wufei could barely let himself breathe. Keawe was calm now, and he didn't dare to be otherwise. Very tightly, very softly, he said, 'If you remove it, you will kill him.'

'I hope not,' Keawe answered. 'I've got a surgeon who thinks he can do it. I hope not, Agent.'

'You say he's a hero. If he is, he doesn't deserve this from you.'

'He's the one who made sure I'd find out. He's been showing it off since you arrived! Word started getting around. When I heard the Sevans had him--' Keawe scrubbed his hands through his hair. 'Those animals didn't understand what they had in their hands. All they knew was their punching bag could take a few extra punches. And he put himself in their hands, knowing they'd do that to him, those gorillas with nothing on the brain but blood. Yes. He is a hero. He put himself out there like a silver lure, knowing that I'd find out about it, and about the implant, and that I'd find a way to get him.'

Send me now, Duo had said. Duo had changed his mind. He'd tried to back out-- he just hadn't done it fast enough. Wufei had given Keawe the means and a new deadline. He'd finally outsmarted Duo; and it couldn't have been worse.

'I'd like to think I could talk you around.' Keawe approached him, now, and Wufei entertained a brief fancy of what damage he would inflict if Keawe touched him. 'I'd like to think you'd understand and agree with me. I know a good man when I see one, and I know you care what happens here.'

'I will never agree with what you're doing. I fought that terrible war once already. And if I have to fight it again,' Wufei said, 'it will not be on your side. And Maxwell will say the same. You're right about one thing-- he is a hero. And a hero wants to protect his people, not recklessly expose them to a war they won't win. He was going to turn on you. Today he told me that. He wanted me to send him back to prison, so you'd never get your hands on the implant.'

'No,' Keawe denied, but the consternation of his fantasy crumbling was written all over his face. 'No... he made sure I'd know he was here. He made sure I'd know about it.'

'He's a better man than you are,' Wufei said. 'He learnt how to back down before it was too late.'

Keawe stared at the wall, one hand at his mouth as if holding in a scream. He closed his eyes.

'Will you be able to do that?' Wufei asked him quietly. 'I know something about-- about regrets, regretting that I didn't stop while there was still time. It's a heavy burden, Bren. It's a horrible thing to live with.'

'I'll ask him,' Keawe said abruptly. 'I'll ask him myself. If he says no-- if he says what you've said--' He stood breathing raggedly. 'Arrest me, expose me, whatever. But if he agrees with me, and I believe he will-- then I'll do what I have to. I'll live with any regrets, because I'll at least know I tried.'

'Trying would have been voting your conscience and then taking your case to the people,' Wufei burst out.

'Only if the system worked,' Keawe retorted. 'And no-one knows like a man inside the system how much it doesn't work.' He banged on the door with an open hand. 'Tamara, let us out.'

They were in what looked like a warehouse with half-finished offices lined against a single wall. Wufei's cell was on the ground floor, and he stared out at the empty black space that stretched off into shadow. Tamara and her rifle pushed him along, nudging him up a creaking metal staircase. Keawe went behind them both, but came forward to push open a door on the second storey. He went in first, and Wufei followed slowly.

His steps faltered immediately. Keawe's 'surgeon' was little better than Lonny had been; a stick-thin man with a greasy shaved head who wore green scrubs with old stains. The surgical station was cobbled together out of mismatched pieces, machines all a generation old, at least, and there were fuzzy scans of Duo's skull tacked to a back-lit mirror. The implant, a thumbnail sized chip in the forebrain. It was circled in red marker, mapped by rulers taped to the scans. And there was Duo, sprawled on his stomach on a battered gurney, his bare back a bloody raw mess, the bullet wound from the sniper's shot still wide open to the air. His head, cushioned on his arm, didn't raise at their entrance. A plastic tube snaked to an anaesthesia mask over his mouth and nose.

'Wake him up,' Keawe ordered. 'Hurry.'

'Wake him?' The surgeon twirled the scalpel he was cleaning. 'I just put him out. Again. He's going through the anaesthesia faster than I can administer it.'

'One more time. Do it.'

Wufei shook his head, sheer disbelief robbing him of anything more eloquent. 'This is barbaric,' he said.

'Enough,' Keawe snapped tensely. 'I'll talk to him. You wait until I tell you you can talk.'

The surgeon bent over Duo. He took away the mask and gave him a rough shake. 'Take a minute,' he grunted lazily. He shook Duo again.

'Maxwell?' Keawe went on his knees next to Duo's gurney. 'Maxwell. I need to ask you something very important.'

Duo's head rolled groggily. It stopped when his eyes fell on Wufei.

'Maxwell?' Keawe gently touched Duo's shoulder for his attention. 'I need to ask you. You know what we're doing here. We-- I-- I want to try and remove your implant. If we can figure out how it works, if we can replicate it, we'd have an indispensable edge against any army Earth sends against us. Imagine a corps of trained resistance fighters, like you and the other Gundam pilots.' Keawe's voice went from pleading to persuasive. 'Imagine how unstoppable you would have been if you'd had the implant then. Imagine what you could have accomplished. The lives you could have saved here.'

I know what Heero was like on the inside, Duo said. Wufei dropped his eyes to the ground. Indestructible.

'What I need from you is permission,' Keawe coaxed. 'Because I was wrong to think I could just take this from you. It makes me just like them, the Earthers, brutal pigs who take everything they want from us. So I'm asking you, Mister Maxwell, Duo... Please tell me you're willing to sacrifice one more time for your home.'

Wufei looked up, unable to look away. Duo's eyes connected with his, locked.

'Duo,' Keawe said. 'Please. For our people.'

'Duo,' Wufei echoed, already knowing the answer.

'I'm sorry,' Duo breathed. 'Wufei. I'm sorry.'

Keawe stood with a straight spine, shoulders back, his confidence restored as if it had never wavered. 'Thank you, Duo,' he said. He looked triumphantly at Wufei, but it faded to that expression of regret again. 'I wish it were otherwise,' he added. 'But the people of L2 will know what he did for them. I'll build monuments to that man's courage. And we'll have our freedom, because of him.'


	10. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He knew, then. However long he'd been unconscious this time, it had been enough for them to finish their evil work and leave. He knew, and he suspected worse-- that once they were gone, they'd never be caught._

Cloudwalker touched his shoulder. 'We've got Maxwell ready for transport,' he said.

Wufei came to his feet. 'He's stable?'

'Ortega says it's enough to get him to hospital.' The taller man gazed down at him from furrowed brows. 'It's going to be quite the story, isn't it. All this.'

'More than you can imagine.' The hypnotic lights of the ambulance threatened to mesmerise him again. He felt almost too drained to stand. 'I'll ride in with him.'

'Of course.'

A certain new deference to him now, owing entirely to the mess that came banging out of the shredded metal doors of the warehouse. Ortega was in the lead of the medical team, barking orders and pushing the gurney along himself. He jumped into the ambulance as the Preventers behind him collapsed the gurney's wheels and loaded it into the cab. Wufei waited until one of them turned to gesture him along. Cloudwalker nodded him away, and turned back to deal with the agents swarming the warehouse.

Ortega pointed him to a slim plastic bench. 'You need anything, sir?'

'No.' Wufei sat listlessly for a moment, his knees and back radiating a kind of numb relief. 'Can I help?'

'No, sir. We're just keeping him still until we get there. We're about a half hour away.'

Wufei licked his dry lips. 'Is he...'

Ortega finished hanging the IV bags of fluids and arranging the monitors. He dropped to the bench beside Wufei. 'Too early to tell,' he said. 'There's a risk of shock due to hemorrhage. But there's no respiratory distress.'

He didn't really know what that meant. He didn't really know even by Ortega's tone, clipped and controlled and low. He didn't press for more.

Agents closed the doors on them, and the ambulance started to move. Ortega steadied Wufei from the first rocking ascent out of the loading bay. He took a bottle of water, then, from under their seat, and pressed it on Wufei with soft instructions to drink. Wufei obeyed, draining half the water in gulps, and nearly all the rest in slower sips, not even caring it wasn't cool. It helped ease the tightness in his chest, and chased back his headache, for a moment.

'The thing I don't get,' Ortega said.

'What.'

'I saw those scans in there. They could have reached it with catheter technique. They didn't have to cut him open.'

Wufei swallowed the last mouthful. He screwed the cap back on, or tried to. His fingers were swollen, and didn't want to cooperate.

'Who would do that? Who would just rip him open like that?'

Wufei found there was a little cushion of bagged medical supplies, if he leant his head back. He rested it there, his eyes dipping closed even against his attempt to keep them open. He didn't try again.

 

**

 

'Keawe.' He stopped walking, ignoring Tamara's warning jab at his back with her rifle. Keawe had to face him-- Keawe couldn't not look him in the eye, not after that triumph in there. Keawe turned back to him, eyebrows raised.

'The cruelty doesn't bother you,' Wufei said. 'The naked ambition it takes, to condemn another man to what you're doing.'

'You heard him,' Keawe answered gravely. 'And I'm not the one who put that thing in his head to begin with.'

'Your sense of justice is more twisted than you believe.'

'Agent, I appreciate what you're trying to do, trying to say, and I don't disagree with you. I don't. But we are much too far along this path to stop now. Our freedom is at stake.'

'So Duo dies and to you goes the glory?' Tamara gave him a shove, and Wufei reacted with the full weight of the awful sense of doom building inside him. He broke her nose with by throwing the thick bone of his skull back into her face, wrenched the gun from her spasming hands and dropped her to the floor with a kick to her knee.

When he turned, Keawe held a pistol on him. 'Don't make me shoot you,' the man said.

Wufei felt sweat breaking out on his body. Tamara's groggy flailing on the concrete was nothing; it was between he and the man who was styling himself the new leader of the revolution. Again.

'You're no Treize Khushrenada,' Wufei said. 'You think you're embarking on a grand and noble battlefield. You have no idea how ugly war really is. Or how it will spread once you start it. How many millions of lives can you carry on those shoulders? Don't mistake it. Once you start it, there will be nothing to hold back the brutality. And L2 will have nothing it didn't already have-- only more grief.'

'If you really believed I would fail, you wouldn't stand there talking at me. I'd be dead right now, wouldn't I? I don't doubt you could do it.' Keawe let the gun dangle from his finger, hands raised beside his head. 'Do it. Show me how serious you are.'

He should have. He knew that. He didn't even have to shoot to kill; he could disable, the shoulder, the knee, and the same with Tamara who was on her feet now behind him, tears streaming down her bloody face, the surgeon upstairs about to--

'I didn't think so,' Keawe said, and reached for the rifle.

Wufei finally moved. He swept up the heavy butt-end of the gun and took Keawe in the chin, swinging it around toward the staggered man to fire. His finger was on the trigger when Tamara grabbed him by his ponytail, wrenching his head back. She jabbed the stun-gun under his ear, and the last thing Wufei saw was the cracked ceiling overhead as he fell nervelessly to the floor.

 

He woke in the same cell as before.

The headache was almost crippling now. His eyes streamed from the light overhead, as if it were shards of glass. His stomach rebelled, and he rolled to his side, coughing out a weak stream of vomit onto the floor. He lay panting with the nausea, trying and failing to breathe properly and calm himself.

When his jumbled brain could cobble thoughts together, his first was for the camera, to wonder if they were still watching him. But of course they would not be. They would be operating on Duo now, and Keawe wouldn't stay away for long. How long would it even take? Surgeries could be performed in minutes, in the field. With that ancient equipment they'd brought here, it would be longer-- unless they just cracked Duo open like an egg and took what they wanted.

The very image of it made him sick again. He pressed his burning eyes into his arm, willing his body under his control.

He gathered his strength to go to hands and knees. He didn't risk standing full upright, not yet. It was enough to get him to the door. He fumbled above his head for the latch, just to test it-- but discovered instead that it wasn't locked at all. The door was open.

He knew, then. However long he'd been unconscious this time, it had been enough for them to finish their evil work and leave. He knew, and he suspected worse-- that once they were gone, they'd never be caught.

He lurched out into the warehouse. All the lights were out, and he had to make his way, unsteady and blind, for the staircase he only half remembered. The first two doors he tried were wrong, empty half-finished offices still strung with plastic tarps from construction crews long gone. He made it no further than a step inside the third door, frozen in place by what he found.

He had no substantive memory of the next hour-- finding his phone and his gun left behind for him, calling for help. They'd been missed by then, of course; Keawe's double had indeed been rushed to hospital on Earth, and the news was all focussed on the question of who could have done it. Cloudwalker yelled. Wufei yelled back, that he did remember; stood screaming into his mobile using words he would never otherwise use, words he hadn't used even to curse the man who'd started it all.

He did, though. Alone in his head, sitting on the cold concrete floor by that primitive operating room. And he called himself worse.

Old enough, now, to understand what a real loss was. A real failure. In every sense, this was by far the most profound mistake he'd ever made. For nothing. For an arrogant dreamer's self-aggrandising fantasies of war.

The rap of boot heels on the rickety metal staircase jolted him out of his daze. He didn't move, though. They'd find him. Yes, door swinging open wide, red laser beams sweeping the room from the taut grips of armed Preventers. Cloudwalker himself, front and centre, a giant in the shadows.

Someone flipped on the lights.

'Jesus Christ,' Ortega said. He crossed himself. He wasn't the only one. Even Cloudwalker made a sign over his chest.

Wufei, from his spot on the floor, said, 'He's still alive. Get him to the hospital.'

'Alive?' The disbelief in Cloudwalker's voice was echoed in the faces around him. Ortega came forward, and Wufei pushed to his feet to meet him. 'Alive,' Wufei echoed. 'But I don't know how long he's been like this. At least a half hour since I called you.'

It took Ortega and another medic to unscrew the vise, cushioning Duo's head. Wufei stood back to let them work, at first, but Duo's eyelids were fluttering. Thinking he was waking, Wufei took his hand, forgetting the presence of the other Preventers now spilling into the room to gather evidence. But Duo never woke.

'Critical condition,' Ortega said. 'I want that gurney up here five minutes ago. We start fluids immediately, and get ready to intubate. No, keep him on his stomach. Look at this, they left a fucking shunt.'

Duo's skin was freezing. Wufei couldn't catch his pulse for more than a second. He let go when Ortega shook out a thermal blanket over Duo's bare body.

'Chang,' Cloudwalker said flatly. 'I think you'd better explain what the hell's been happening here.'

 

**

 

They let him stay with Duo after the second round of surgery. A nurse carried a chair to the gurney in ICU for him and even returned with a blanket. Wufei stayed awake long enough to ascertain Duo was in no danger of waking precipitously—a silly hope, in the face of what the surgeons reported, but naively, insanely convincing a hope, in his exhaustion. He let sleep claim him after an hour of warm silence, lulled by the quiet chirruping of Duo’s monitors.

He was up again for a meal of broiled chicken and soft pears when Cloudwalker arrived. The big man was out of uniform, a change Wufei noted and wondered at. Long dark hair spread over broad shoulders, and without neckties and leather lapels, Wufei saw as well the thick fold of a scar that ran the length of Cloudwalker’s jaw and into his shirt collar. He didn’t look so foreign without the uniform. Wufei would have passed him on the street here without looking twice. He belonged. Wufei supposed—supposed perhaps he was starting to belong, too.

Cloudwalker eased his large body onto the little rolling stool the supervising doctor used. Wufei mutely offered his dessert of baked pudding, but Cloudwalker passed it off with a small smile.

‘How is he?’ he asked.

Wufei wiped his mouth on his hand, careless, for once, of his manners. ‘Same as before. Not awake yet.’ He cleaned his fork with a rough swipe over his tongue and set it aside. ‘Security?’

‘Minimal. I have Ortega out there, pretending to be just a busy-body crank who doesn’t want to let go of a patient. Not entirely a stretch.’

‘It will leak out,’ Wufei noted.

‘Leak what? No-one on this colony gives a shit about the fate of Tyden Miller.’

Despite himself, he was grateful. He managed a tight nod. Cloudwalker received it without any evidence of the smugness Wufei expected. That Cloudwalker was entitled to.

‘Now,’ Cloudwalker said then, ‘Tell me what the hell happened. And be thorough. I’ve got the time to hear it.’

‘Keawe,’ Wufei replied, and didn’t elaborate. But it was enough. Maquinna’s eyes widened, and he said back with his big hand to his mouth.

‘Damn,’ he said, a long moment later. ‘There go our careers.’

Yes.

‘How’d he manage to be in two places at once? The news is barely talking about anything else but his collapse on Earth. They even postponed the vote until there could be an investigation.’

‘Postponed?’ Wufei said sharply.

‘Relena Peacecraft came out of the woodwork. Got herself a prime-time news conference and practically brow-beat the entire Parliament into delaying. She didn’t quite say anyone who wanted to move forward in the face of murder accusations was a traitor, but that’s what the whole Sphere heard.’

For the first time in his life Wufei could have kissed Relena. ‘Brilliant,’ he admired. ‘She really is.’

‘So, what, are you saying Keawe poisoned himself? Some kind of stunt? How did Maxwell—‘

‘Keawe hired a double.’ Wufei pushed his tray away under his chair, stretching sore muscles. ‘Apparently on my advice.’

Maquinna caught on. ‘Where’s the real Keawe now, then?’

‘Probably delivering a scientific miracle to his backers.’ Wufei took a deep breath that hurt only a little. ‘A neural implant that enables a man to function through physical pain. Maxwell had the prototype. Now Keawe does.’

And it appeared that his suspicions of Cloudwalker had been entirely unfounded. If Cloudwalker had followed up on the slip Duo had made—only a few days ago—a slip Wufei was now sure had been a deliberate temptation of Cloudwalker’s loyalties—the surprise and disgust the man now showed would not have been so natural or slow to build. A furious flush grew high in his cheeks as he put the pieces together. ‘Preventers designed this—thing—‘ he said haltingly, ‘—and put it in him?’

‘A test run.’

‘On a prisoner who couldn’t say no,’ Maquinna said flatly. He smashed his fist into his thigh. ‘Damn. Damn it. We’re supposed to be better than this. I didn’t sign on to Preventers just to become another Feddie freak experimenting on the colonials!’

‘I doubt most Feddies thought that’s what their contract said, once upon a time.’ Maquinna had more than a little L2 outrage building now. Wufei couldn’t find it in him to halt it. It was earned. It was time for them all to show some outrage.

He told the rest of it, paraphrasing the mission brief and then the events that had led them deeper into Keawe’s conspiracy. He didn’t spare Duo the details of his own machinations, but neither did Wufei leave out Duo’s change of heart. He spoke uninterrupted until he described Keawe’s little drama, asking Duo ‘permission’. ‘Change of heart,’ Maquinna scoffed then. ‘Not hardly, if he agreed to let Keawe dig that thing out of his skull.’

‘Of course he agreed,’ a new voice said. Quatre Winner, at the door to Duo’s unit. Cloudwalker, uniform or no, came to his feet in the presence of a superior. Wufei didn’t. Quatre met his eyes solemnly. ‘He was saving your life,’ Quatre added. ‘Keawe was volatile and he had both of you in his custody. Duo wouldn’t put you at risk by refusing, not with a gun to your head.’

‘Sir, take my seat.’ Maquinna moved to give up his stool. Quatre waved him away, though. ‘I just got off a long flight,’ he said. ‘Please, sit down.’

‘Sit,’ Wufei agreed. ‘Don’t make sacrifices for the man who put an implant in a helpless prisoner.’

Maquinna got caught half-posed over the stool, not willing yet to plunge after Wufei in a headlong career suicide, morally scandalised or no.

‘You’re upset,’ Quatre said quietly.

‘No, I’m quite calm. And I want whatever explanation you have that you’ve convinced yourself was good enough.’

Quatre cast his gaze down for a moment. Not shame or even embarrassment, though. He left the doorway, stepping between the two Preventers to Duo’s bed. Easily—far more easily than Wufei had—he laid his hand over Duo’s limp one, trailed fingertips over the netted bandage that covered Duo’s head in white, the thick pad taped to his back over the sniper’s shot. His knee, too, the one that had been sliced during his captivity with the cartel, had finally been attended, wrapped and cushioned on a pillow where he lay on his side. It was to Wufei that his face turned, though, slack in unconsciousness, eyes closed.

‘The implant was malfunctioning,’ Wufei said. ‘At the end. It can be overwhelmed.’

‘Yes,’ Quatre answered. ‘We knew.’

‘You knew?’ Maquinna stirred. ‘Then what was the point…’

‘You knew what Duo would do?’ Wufei demanded.

‘He did exactly what he was asked. He got out word of the implant’s existence. It led him to the men most likely to be behind the unrest on L2.’

‘Who nearly killed him for possession of it!’

‘He was supposed to signal us when he was sure who was after it. He was to tell you it was time to get him off the colony.’

That pierced his shroud of cold detachment. Duo had done that. Three times. Keawe had been faster than him to grasp the urgency.

‘I don’t understand.’ Maquinna was back on his feet, arms crossed belligerently, jaw set. ‘The implant wasn’t working, but you put Maxwell out there anyway?’

Quatre drew a deep breath, and put his hands in his pockets. ‘It worked enough to get the attention of whoever would risk reaching out to get it. It had to. But we also couldn’t take the chance of putting a real weapon in someone’s hand. It works enough. They’ll use it. They’ll replicate it. Build more. Keawe will convince them to. He’ll lead us to the money, the rogue scientists, the ground troops who will be chosen to use the implants. If Keawe survives long enough, he’ll lead us to every arm of the entire operation. And they still won’t have an army capable of matching ours.’

‘You’re going to let Keawe get away with it?’ Cloudwalker stared, shaking his head. ‘His entire scheme has amateur written all over it. We can expose him, without hardly trying—‘

‘And loose the opportunity to take out everyone behind him. We let that happen before, with that man right there.’ He inclined his head to Duo’s body. ‘Doubtless Keawe will pick up many of the same discontents Duo did. But this time we’ll be ready. We won’t win by chance, because the other side slips. We’ll be able to put this proto-rebellion down without so much as a news clip to tell the Sphere we’re doing it. We need a victory.’

Another of Duo’s theories proved true. Whoever was watching Preventers wanted to see them justify their budget, their bloated bureaucracy, their existence. They had, by fomenting a revolution they’d destroy as soon as it found its legs. Wufei felt truly ill.

Maquinna broke the silence that followed that. ‘And what happens to L2?’

Not corrupt. He really had misjudged Maquinna all along. Just a man whose sympathies leant a little too left of Preventers’ determination to keep the peace, even at the cost of an entire colony.

Quatre seemed to be thinking the same thing. He nodded, not with pity or condemnation, just agreement. ‘We hope for the passage of Section VI,’ he said. ‘We hope they remember us in time.’

Wufei rubbed at the sour taste on his lips. ‘Why did you come.’

‘We’re moving Duo as soon as his doctors release him.’

‘Back to his prison cell. After all this.’

‘I hope to convince the rest of the Council that his service calls for a mitigation of his sentence.’

‘I’m sure they’ll be touched.’

Quatre pressed his lips together, and exhaled gently. ‘You’re released from duty. Take a holiday. We’ll debrief you when you get back.’

He wasn’t even shocked. He said, ‘Go to hell, Quatre.’ He took his stained jacket from the back of his chair, shoving his arms into it. Maquinna nearly spoke, then changed his mind. Quatre said nothing at all.

He didn’t let himself look at Duo before he left. It wasn’t the last image he wanted in his mind. It would haunt him enough, just to know.

It was over.

 

**

 

With no-where else to go, he returned to their hotel. If Preventers meant to boot him out, they would; but until then, he needed time to sleep, to settle everything he'd just learnt-- to be alone with hard truths.

But he quickly determined that the hotel was not the place to enact that self-reconciliation. The room had been cleaned, the cupping instruments pointedly removed to the table again, their used towels replaced with fresh. But everything in it was the problem. It was all _theirs_. There was such a thing as too much alone, and he'd spent too much of his life in that state not to recognise it now. He was there no more than a half hour before it became unbearable. He left it all behind, with nothing more than the shirt on his back. He didn't feel like he could breathe until he reached the street. Even then, his chest hurt.

It all hurt.

He stood outside the building on the street looking in, eyes burning just a little against the bright golden lights inside. The tables were all full, even middle of the week. The waiters in their crisp uniforms almost danced between the crowds, whisking glamorous trays of food and glistening wine glasses as if they were confections of air. There was laughter in there, on the other side of the window, smiles shared between friends. On Wufei's side of the window, there was only the noise of passing vehicles, the screech of construction work somewhere nearby, metal on metal in a fading scream.

She came to him before he could convince himself to go in. He saw her see him, from inside at the bar, saw her recognise him. She walked the length of the restaurant, ignoring several hails for her attention, and came right out the door. She hugged her bare arms in the open night air, the satin gold of her dress crinkling and then smoothing to a long sweeping line at her knees.

Wufei swallowed against tightness in his throat. 'I thought you should know,' he said. 'It's finished. They're taking Duo off L2.'

Her lips parted. She wore a pretty coral gloss, to match the colour spread in an arch over her eyelids. She looked very lovely. Wufei admitted it, and admitted as well why he'd really come.

'I need help,' he said. 'I just... I need someone who can listen.'

She stirred. 'You eaten yet?'

'I had something at the hospital.'

'Then nothing I'd really qualify as a meal.' She stepped toward him, lifting her hand to his face. Cool fingers brushed over the burn bruises on his neck, left by meeting the stun gun twice. 'I live just up the street. Come on.'

'No, your work...'

'I'm not working tonight. Come on.' She dropped her hand to his, enclosing it. 'You look like you could use a warm shower, too.'

'Thank you,' he said. 'Tom.'

Her mouth curved upward. 'It's all right.'

She had an apartment only two blocks away, a faux-brick townhouse in a row of other slim, multi-story buildings. Cultured topiaries curled from ceramic urns beside the steps to her door. She unlocked it and led him inside, up wooden stairs to the second level. A kitchen and living area. She turned on only a single lamp in each room. It was all very feminine, a private space that he mutely understood to be shared only with a special few. A low futon couch covered with a chenille throw the same colour as her dress was his first destination; she set pillows against one arm for him to lean on, and turned away from him to light a cone of incense on a brass burner. Soon the scents of lavender and sage began to float.

'You can use the shower when you're ready,' she said. 'I'll throw your clothes into the dryer. Not quite the same as new, but you'll feel better.'

'Thank you,' he said again. 'Which way...'

'Up those stairs there and on the immediate left. There's a clean towel in the linen closet. Disposable razors under the sink.' She draped her coat over an ancient-looking rocking chair. 'Take your time.'

He did, but not through intent. Once the warm pounding water started to flow, it was like a drug draining him of all thought. He fell almost to dozing underneath the spray. He shook himself awake enough to wash. Her shampoo smelled like the incense, and her soap. He shaved for the first time in days, and dragged her comb through his hair. He left it loose to dry, and found his clothes, fluffed and still warm from the dryer, hanging from the door when he opened it.

Tom Sawyer was in the kitchen when he emerged. She still wore the gold dress, but her heels had been discarded to a shoe rack near the small television screen. Steam rose from burnished steel pots on her large stove. 'Take a seat,' she said. 'Red or white?'

'Wine?'

She smiled over her shoulder at him. 'Wine.' She took two large glasses from a rack over her head and set them on the bar counter. Wufei took one of the tall stools that sat against it on the living room side. 'White, I think.' She drew a bottle from the refrigerator and wriggled the cork out. She poured first for Wufei, then herself. 'You look like you need it.'

It was a subtle probe, a not-quite question. Wufei took a swallow of the wine. It was cold and sweet. 'It was... a long few days.'

'A long month, I think.'

Month. Yes, it had been a full month, or nearly. It felt like a year.

'Are you ready to eat?' She turned back to the stove. 'Go sit by the couch. Nothing formal.'

He did, and took their glasses with him. She had large pillows, decorated with beads and metallic threads. He set a few on the floor, to either side of the low coffee table. Tom followed him from the kitchen with two large bowls. Wufei took them to set down, and she returned a second time carrying a large iron tea pot. 'Sit,' she urged him. 'It's ready.'

Wufei settled slowly onto the pillow in front of the couch. 'It looks wonderful,' he said automatically. 'What is it?'

'Chazuke.' She passed him a set of chopsticks in a woven bamboo sleeve. 'It's a Japanese dish. Hot tea, a dash of dashi, and just a hint of wasabi over cooked rice and leftovers. Sort of Japanese comfort food. My sous chef makes it. Swears he'll take the family recipe to the grave, but what he doesn't know is I've got a camera in the kitchen.' She lifted the tea pot and poured into Wufei's bowl. 'I figured something simple would be best right now.'

He was surprised to realise she was right. Chinese hospitality, at least the way Wufei had been raised, would have dictated that a guest be served the most complex dishes, presented with care for artistry to flatter the visitor's importance. And Wufei would have had to spend the evening praising the cook for the presentation, eating more than he wanted to ensure his host was suitably rewarded for the effort. Tom had bypassed that, and he thought she had done so purposefully. No expectations.

'It's perfect,' Wufei said. He dipped his chopsticks into the dish. Seaweed, salmon slices, roe, vinegary pickles. It was salty and just a little spicy, thanks to the wasabi, and paired with the sweet wine it satisfied every taste. As soon as it touched his lips, he discovered he was famished. He ate steadily, pausing only to refresh the tea in his bowl as the rice absorbed it. Before he knew it, he'd finished. With a small smile, Tom pushed the remains of her meal to him. He ate that, too, and swallowed the last of his wine with his head resting on the futon cushion behind him.

'You can sleep here,' Tom said then.

'No. It's all right.' He twirled the delicate glass stem between his fingers. 'I just needed... to settle it all, I think.'

'Agent Chang? What's happened to Duo?'

He set the base of the glass to his stomach. 'He was-- injured. Brain injury.'

'Brain injury?'

Her voice was sharp. Wufei couldn't look at her. 'He had an-- a neural implant. Certain people-- they-- I think they were scared of being caught. They were rushing. They put him through a surgery to get it out. The surgeon nicked a blood vessel in the brain. It's possible-- probable-- there's going to be lingering damage.'

He didn't have to look at her to picture her reaction. Hand to her mouth, her skin paled in shock. 'Why would they do that?' she whispered.

'For their home. For their people.' He sat up carefully. 'I think Duo knew. I think... I think to a certain point, he'd decided to let it happen. He believed in their cause.'

'To a certain point.'

'We always underestimated him.' She was pale. Her fists were wrapped together in her lap, though, and it wasn't shock that had her so. She was angry. 'He's a good man,' Wufei said. His eyes stung, then. He pressed his tongue hard to the roof of his mouth, jaw clenched, fighting the weakness. It was only because he was so very tired.

Tom clenched her hand on her own wine glass. She drank the last of the glass in hard swallows, and set it back on the table with a stiff clink. 'Sometimes I hate this place,' she said. 'Sometimes it just makes me want to scream. It's like nothing good can ever happen here.'

'That's not true. I think the good is just-- harder, here.' He reached for her hand, this time. He covered her fingers, until she turned her palm up to his, and wrapped her fingers in his. 'There's good happening here, now.'

'What's going to happen to him? They won't send him back to prison?'

He couldn't answer that. He shook his head, the smallest negation he could manage. 'There's nothing I can do to help him now.'

'You can talk to your commanders,' she said. 'You can tell them what he's done this time. He was just trying to help. And all the things that happened, they can't hold him responsible now, not if he's really hurt. They can't send him back like that.'

'I'll talk to them. I'll beg them, if I have to.' He squeezed her hand. 'I'll try.'

She passed her free hand over her eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she murmured. 'It's not your fault. I know that.' She climbed to her feet. She piled their dishes and glasses and took them to the kitchen, her bare feet soundless on the carpet.

Wufei stood to follow her. He stood by her as she rinsed the bowls and set them overturned on a tea towel to dry. 'He used to talk about you,' she added abruptly. 'He never had many friends. Especially that period when he was on Earth, you were the only one he really knew. When he came back to L2, the last time, right before he got involved with-- what he did-- he said you'd fought. He said you weren't talking to him anymore.'

He'd almost forgotten it. It had been-- nine years? 'Yes,' he said slowly. 'He thought Preventers... thought we were going in a bad direction. Becoming cops with extraordinary powers that were assumed, not given. Policing the people, not protecting them.'

'He always cared about those things. Worse, he always thought he could do something about it, if he just figured out what.' She leaned her hands on the sink, her head bowed over it. 'I can't imagine him-- not himself. Not up and taking a stand on something. The first time I met him-- I was in OZ, did you know that? A fresh recruit with shining eyes. For the first time in my life I had steady pay, my own bunk, clean clothes and shoes without holes in the rubber; and I'd told myself the whole way through it didn't matter I was turning my back on my colony to get it. Then I met Duo. Five minutes.' She laughed, abruptly. 'Five minutes alone with him, and I would have given my soul for Space. He turned me on a dime and I never looked back. He made me believe.'

Wufei stood there wishing for something he could believe in, now. All he had was a broken system to which he'd contributed his ignorance and passivity. He wondered if Command would let Keawe ascend to the Presidency while they built their case against him. Or if Quatre would, on the strength of this silent campaign he'd run with Duo's help. It turned his stomach. He wondered if it always would. Maybe in a year or two, the pain and the hurt would be out of it, the memory would fade, and there would be something worse to worry about, something else to distract him from the bleak awfulness he saw right now.

'You're thinking again.' She touched his cheek. 'I'm sorry. You asked me to listen, not mouth off.'

'I think I like that about you.'

She was the one who made the first move. Her mouth touched his, tentative, wary of rejection. But the taste of her set something off inside him. He set his hands to her slim waist. Barefoot, she was smaller than him, delicate. The cool fabric of her dress warmed quickly under his hands. So did her lips. Their tongues met, and she shivered. He pressed her back against the sink, gently closing her in, until their hips met. He smoothed his hands up her back, his mouth trailing her neck to her shoulder. The first brush of his palm to her breast made her shudder again, and she gripped him hard by the shirtfront. He stopped himself only when he found his fingers pulling at the strap of her dress, and pressed his cheek to her skin.

Not Duo. Nothing like him.

'Is this all right?' he murmured.

She exhaled against his throat. 'If it wasn't, you'd have heard about it by now.' She dropped her hand to hold his. 'I've got a bed that's more appropriate than the kitchen.'

Maybe not so different than Duo, after all. Wufei kissed her again, and nodded his agreement.

Her bedroom on the third level was much like the living area, full of soft textures and muted colours that soothed. She didn't light the lamp, and when the hallway door closed there was just barely enough light from behind the window curtains to see dim outlines. She bridged the distance between them, returning to his side as silent as a ghost. She raised her hands to his shirt, twisting the top button free. Then the second, and third. She bared him by slipping her hands under the cotton to his skin and pushing the shirt off his shoulders. He let it slither from his arms and fall to the floor. In answer, she led him to the zip in the back of her dress, and helped him draw it down. He caressed her thighs as he lifted the hem of dress and underslip, and she raised her arms as he lifted it carefully over her head. When the dress fluttered to the carpet, she unbuckled his belt, opening his flies and pushing his trousers from his hips. He stepped out of them, bending to catch his socks as well.

'Lie down,' she whispered. He obeyed, sliding backward on the smooth duvet on the bed until he could feel pillows behind him. She came after him, her pale legs arranging in long lines as she settled beside him, her hand falling warm on his stomach, his chest, his cheek. He rolled her beneath him, nudging his knee between her thighs until he met her panties and the hot vee they clothed. He left kisses down her sternum, stroking his lips over lace-covered nipples until her breathing deepened and her nails dug into his back. He found the clasp between her breasts and undid it. He followed the same path with his tongue, sucking her flesh until the pressure in his groin grew too great to be ignored. He breathed a word to her, and they parted long enough to shed the last barrier of clothing. This time she came to him, wrapping her leg about his waist. A moment later, he was inside her, eyes squeezed shut to the curve of her neck.

 

Duo may have focussed on Sally Po as his rival, but there had been other women in his life. They'd never been there long; Wufei was by nature zealously guarded of his privacy, a legacy of long-gone days where he'd been accountable for every second of his time to jealously protective grandparents. But of men, there'd only been Duo, and it had been a source of confusion and even pain to discover such an attraction.

It truly wasn't what Duo thought, that he was embarrassed of being homosexual. It was just that he didn't really think he was one. Loving Duo had made that a much harder thing to live with.

There was nothing that came naturally or easily about being with Duo. They had not even been friends when they'd first slept together, only a little more than twenty and already jaded souls cynical about their place in the world. He'd thought it was an anomaly. Like Duo-- an anomaly of the human race, surely, at once keen and capable of profoundly stupid words, whose cheerfulness wasn't a mask to his darkness, only a balance. Even in bed Duo had been a terror, demanding and tender and needing to be romanced, even when he was the seducer. Several times Wufei had vowed to end it and return his life to normal. He never had. Duo had, by leaving Earth. Wufei had been relieved. At first.

But there was everything natural and easy about being with women. Sally had been a mistake, but only because of mismatched expectations. And despite his lack of lasting relationships, he'd never lain awake staring at the ceiling and questioning his choices, his judgment, his self, the way he always had after Duo.

Until now.

Some time before the colony lights raised for day, Tom stirred out of her doze and left the bed. She moved silently through the bedroom, slipping into a bedrobe and closing the door very quietly after her.

Wufei swung his feet to the floor. Their clothing was still strewn where it had fallen the night before. He gathered his and dressed, and shook the wrinkles from her dress and slip and draped them gently over the dainty bench before her old-fashioned vanity. He touched the hairbrush, the silver-backed mirror, a pile of discarded hairpins.

He smelled cooking food when he descended the stairs. He stood leaning on a chair to watch her move through the kitchen. Her tousled hair and bare feet seemed elegant, the sway of her body in motions as comfortable as the well-worn robe. She was beautiful.

'I should go,' he said.

She stiffened. But didn't turn. 'I figured.' A moment passed, a stilted heartbeat. 'Eat before you do. It's the one thing I do well. Feed the hungry.'

'It's all right.'

'It's not a ploy to make you stay.' She tipped a pot over a bowl, but almost immediately stopped. She threw open a cabinet overhead and took out a travel mug. She emptied the pot into it, capped it. She slammed it onto the bar counter. 'Take it with you. I have to get ready for work.'

'Tom.'

'Go, Wufei. It's okay.' She met his eyes levelly. 'I know you're dealing with a lot. Last night isn't a part of all that. Go off and do all the things you have to do. I'll be doing the same thing.'

He touched her arm as she passed him. She didn't react. Her feet on the stairs made barely any noise at all, but the sound of the bedroom door shutting had a tone of finality.

He took the mug. He wouldn't further offend her by leaving what she'd cooked for him. It was salty soybean milk soup, rich with crullers and prawns and Szechuan mustard greens. He set the cap back with a sigh.


	11. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And suddenly he was sick of it. He'd lived in this tangle for a month, slowly unravelling the knot of secrets and lies. And here, two soldiers he had fought with himself, two people who ought to have been above such selfish scheming, sat there with deaths on their hands, and nearly Duo's as well, for the sake of something that sounded more and more like revenge, not justice. Not freedom._

DeAngelo Ortega was the only one present when Duo finally woke from his coma. It was not the quickened heart rate monitor or the alert summons to the nurse's desk that caught his sleepy attention; it was the flutter of bruised eyelids, the awkward attempt to move limbs that had laid still for eleven days. DeAngelo jumped to the bed, shining a penlight into confused eyes and pressing two relieved fingers to a strong, steady pulse. Then, if DeAngelo gave a moment to his doubts or even to a fantasy of, say, sneaking Tyden Miller out of the hospital and into the safety and anonymity of L2's downtown warren, he could be forgiven the slip. At any rate it was only a moment of hesitation. He unclipped his pager from his belt and input the number he had almost begun to think he would never use. And he did his duty, and sent his message, and a mission to save a war rolled on.

 

**

 

Wufei packed with no idea yet if he really wanted to see that uniform any time soon, or ever again. He stuffed it to the bottom of his duffel, the pressed pants, the olive shirts, the jacket he had always worn with a sense of belonging, if not always with a sense of justice. It felt alien to him, now.

No-one had come for Duo's things ever, so he packed those as well, the little bit Duo had been given by the same people who had once taken everything away. A few tee shirts, the torn blue jeans and a spare set of shoes-- more than Duo had owned at any one time in all the years Wufei had known him. He'd once complained that Duo took too much pride in poverty. He'd really meant that it made him uneasy-- the constant reminder that Duo had nothing to keep him settled. Wufei had always expected Duo to vanish at any moment, leaving no more substance behind than a ghost. He thought Duo had always expected that, too.

He checked out at the front desk and filled a comment card with bland praise for the quality of their stay. He asked them to call him a cab, and waited for it on the pavement outside rather than at the breakfast buffet. It was the business rush hour, and he did not expect service to be quick, but told himself the air was good for him. He longed to be home, his apartment on Earth in Chengde, where the mountains brought lush rains from the west and deep snows in winter, and the summer sun could turn his skin a dark bronze in hours when he sat on his balcony to overlook the river. It was an entire life he longed for, a life he'd many times put on hold because duty called him. It was a life that had combined the best answers to his needs-- a desire to disappear, to be a face in a crowd, a pebble in a stream-- a need to assuage that old guilt that called him to serve. He had relished in the mundanity, the modernity, a lifetime away from the boy who had married for the sake of his clan and fought a war for vengeance and lost everything to the ancient burden of being too different to survive.

He was being shut out again. He didn't know the way forward. There was no Dao for what to do when the world left you behind.

His cab arrived in only fifteen minutes. Wufei helped the driver load his bags into the boot, and jumped from his thoughts when his mobile buzzed inside his duffel. He hadn't realised it was still on, when he'd stuffed it away. He wasn't sure he wanted to know who rang for him now. He nearly walked away from it, but the driver, unknowing, pulled the duffel by the tie for Wufei to access.

'Thank you,' Wufei murmured, and fished out the phone from an inside pocket. He pressed the small 'receive' button with a deadening kind of trepidation, and set the mobile to his ear.

 _'Chang,'_ Cloudwalker said. _'Your boy's awake. Better get down there before they move him.'_

Wufei licked his lips, a stall against the breath that caught in his throat. 'I'll miss my shuttle.'

_'I wonder if they'll ever fly another one. Get down there.'_

'I'm-- not sure.'

 _'Chang—'_ Cloudwalker exhaled heavily. _'He's your responsibility, until the very last second he's got a pinkie toe on L2. You're an arrogant hardass and you let your superiors dupe you three ways to Sunday, not to mention letting Maxwell lead you around by the nose, but one thing you aren't is dismissive of your responsibilities. Get down there.'_

Wufei let his head fall back, catching on a crick from poor sleeping the past week. 'You've said your piece,' he answered quietly. 'For whatever good it will do, I'm going.'

 _'Good,'_ Maquinna said gruffly. _'And when you're done there, come to HQ. We've found the sniper who was doing the shooting at you that day, and you'll never guess who he_ wasn't _working for.'_

'I just assumed he was in Keawe's pay. Part of the show to make me trust him, make me go with him then.' Wufei covered the phone as he followed the driver around the car to an open passenger door. 'Hospital, please,' he said.

 _'It's an interesting coda on this entire adventure,'_ Cloudwalker said. _'Take your time, as long as you're here by three.'_ He hung up.

Wufei entered the hospital with not a little apprehension. He'd forgot Duo was likely to have been moved from the Intensive Care Ward, and wandered lost before a nurse directed him correctly. Once he'd taken the lift and crossed two wings to the Recovery Ward instead, he still found himself feeling directionless. What could he possibly say to Duo? There were no promises to keep, none to make. Only the probability that Duo would want one friendly face before they sent him back. Quatre or no, Duo would go back to prison-- not least, now, because he knew enough about Preventers to cause significant embarrassment if he had the freedom in which to broadcast what he'd done the last month. Wufei no longer thought highly enough of his betters to hope for more justifiable reasoning.

Given the dark turn of his mind, he was not best pleased to see Quatre's blond head bent over Duo's bed. Wufei put himself on the side of the door's window, not yet ready to be seen. It took a few deep breaths to reach that pit in himself, where courage met recklessness in sufficient ratio. He was steeled when he finally depressed the latch and entered.

Quatre's head came up at the noise; he wiped quickly at his eyes, smoothed back his hair. 'Hello, Wufei,' he said neutrally.

Wufei hesitated anew, frozen at the sight of poorly-hidden distress. 'Quatre,' he replied. He wet his lips again. 'I thought Duo was awake.'

'Yes. He was, rather. Now it's just-- normal sleep.' Quatre carefully fisted the hand that had been pressing over Duo's. 'He was awake almost three hours. There's still significant aphasia. The doctors are very cagey about whether that will resolve on its own.'

Wufei took stance on the opposite side of the bed from Quatre. Duo between them lay more on his back now than when he'd been fresh out of surgery and propped on his side by a mountain of pillows. The winding bandage on his head was fresh, significantly reduced in thickness, and Wufei could see stubble growing on the roughly shaven patch that peeked at his neck beside the braid. The respirator had been removed, too, he didn't know when. Duo's chest rose and fell beneath a thin cotton gown, unaided.

Wufei was both relieved and upset that Duo was still, for all intents, dead to his presence. The ambivalence gave edge to his tongue, and when he spoke again it was sharply, seeking and spearing weaknesses. 'It's not as though he'll have many to talk to on the asteroid,' he said. Quatre did not flinch, but his lips twitched thin for a moment beneath the crescent of his moustache. 'He's a companion to Mariemaia Barton, you know. Perhaps it's better not to tempt two geniuses of deception by giving him a working mouth to tell her tales with.'

'If you're not here to resign,' Quatre answered, 'then I don't owe you an explanation. If you are, then all I owe you is a shuttle ticket home.'

Wufei set his jaw. 'I'm not resigning,' he said stiffly.

'You'd have full access to your pension.' Quatre shook his head. 'Never mind. This isn't the conversation I want to have with a friend. Forgive me.'

Wufei did not respond to that-- he wasn't sure how to, just yet. Instead, he said, 'Where will you take him now?'

'A secure hospital outside Brussels. There's no question right now that he needs at least short-term care.' Quatre sat back in his chair, slumping low. 'We're just waiting for him to meet standards for full-gravity re-entry.'

'Secure hospital,' Wufei repeated. 'And you think that's best. For the short-term.'

'Until-- unless--' Quatre shook his head, a small, unconscious-seeming gesture that made Wufei narrow his eyes, unsure of the meaning. 'It's my hope that a plea for mercy will be heard.'

Wufei drew a deep breath. 'I don't think that's good enough.'

'It's the best I can manage. The Council don't fully understand what's happened here, Wufei, they haven't been out of their main offices, some of them, since before they were appointed-- all they'll see when they look at Duo's case file is that he walked into a lot of the same trouble he once fomented.'

'It's not good enough. It doesn't take-- account.'

'Take account of what.'

'None of us went to prison,' he said, forcing out the words slowly, coherently. Quatre had to hear his words, not his emotions. 'After everything we did in the wars that could be considered prosecutable. Thousands dead, property destroyed-- real crimes with real victims. Yes, Duo tried to start a war. But he didn't. Shouldn't that weight on his sentence? Shouldn't his service now? What gives us the right to condemn him, alone of all of us? Half the Council-- most the Council could be called criminal conspirators, under that definition, but all of us got off. And I want to know what gives us the right to punish him for the same things when all of us remain free men.'

'I don't disagree with you.' Quatre gazed up at him wearily. 'And, frankly, it's about damn time you spoke up for him. You should have made that speech seven years ago, when it could have helped him.'

Wufei was stunned speechless. His thoughts shattered off-course. He fumbled, trying to get words out in English, even in Wu-- nothing came together in real language.

'I tried,' Quatre said flatly. 'I testified to his character. I railed against a system full of liars and hypocrites. And yes, Mariemaia Barton, too, for whom no-one weeps at all. That prison is filled with men and women who did very little more than lose at the wrong moment of history. Duo will probably go back there now. It's an awful thing and it's part of what happens, when the rebellion becomes the government it used to vilify.'

He had said that. He'd said it to Keawe, not knowing then he was really issuing a warning to the leader of the new revolution.

'If you really want to help him,' Quatre said.

Wufei swallowed. 'How.'

'Don't quit. You can only be an advocate as long as you have a voice.'

'And when it comes to nothing?' Wufei said huskily. 'What then?'

'Then you take my recommendation of a promotion and you work hard until you get to a position where you can influence policy and minds.'

'I'm not a leader,' Wufei denied immediately. 'I don't seek that kind of command--'

'Not enough people do, and so the Council is filled with the ones who wanted the power without the responsibility. Be part of changing that. I'm asking you to step up, Wufei. If it takes Duo going back to prison after all this to motivate you, then at least you've got a goal finally.'

Wufei was saved a decision by stirring in the bed between them. They both reacted without thought, Quatre sitting forward sharply, and Wufei leaning over to hover a finger over the call button on the rail of the gurney. But Duo only frowned slightly, his eyebrows coming together for a moment.

'You're scrapping over me,' he said.

Quatre touched Wufei's wrist. Wufei, heart pounding, shook Quatre off, and laid his hand on Duo's shoulder. 'Not fighting,' he replied. 'Just talking.'

'Duo?' Quatre asked. 'How are you feeling? Do you need anything?'

'Carpet,' Duo said. 'Don't need any carpet.'

'Help,' Quatre translated quietly. 'He doesn't seem to be aware of the mistakes. And I'm not sure he really knows where he is.'

Duo shifted uncomfortably. Wufei twitched the sheet smooth where it had twisted around one buried foot, and Duo stilled. 'Tomcat?' Duo asked then.

'Tomcat?' Quatre hesitated. 'I don't know what he means.'

Wufei did. He squeezed Duo's toes gently. 'She's fine,' he assured Duo. 'I've-- seen her. She knows everything it was safe for her to know.'

'Good.' Duo clumsily wiped his face with a hand strung with IV tubes. 'What smelted to Keawe?'

'He got away to Earth with your implant,' Wufei explained. 'He had a look-alike who'd arrived earlier, before the scheduled vote. The double was poisoned and taken to hospital. We don't know who they bribed or what they promised, to keep the story quiet there. But the real Keawe's been making public appearances the last two days, trying to drum up the idea that there's a conspiracy to murder supporters of Section VI.'

'Keawe himself wasn't behind that?' Quatre asked him.

'I don't believe he was. He didn't seem to have joined the dots until I told him to hire a new guard. He said something about it, I don't recall the exact words. Something about it being providential that there was someone killing off supporters.' Maybe that was what Cloudwalker had stumbled over, catching the sniper. Someone who'd been there to shoot at Keawe, not at them? That would change things. Two conspiracies instead of just one, and one of them unsolved, at that.

'Wanted him to be a better guy,' Duo murmured. The crease between his eyes deepened for a moment. 'Thought merry... maybe. Hoped.'

'So did I.' It was a little painful to admit. 'I liked him,' he said. Quatre's expression was more sympathetic than Wufei wanted, and he kept his eyes on the lines by Duo's mouth, instead, smoothing them with a fingertip until they disappeared. 'He really does believe, I think. He really cares about L2. He's just... deluded. Self-aggrandising. He's wanted to be a hero all his life, and that's what this revolution of his is, this war he wanted. His chance.'

'At register expense.' Duo sighed. 'Hungry. Mirror of Tom. She always surfs for me.'

'What?'

'His friend, a cook.' Wufei pressed the call button at last, summoning a nurse at the desk outside. 'I would think getting his appetite back is a good sign.'

'Yes.' Quatre smiled, a real smile, his eyes alight with hope. But despite his words, Wufei couldn't share that happiness. He wanted time alone with Duo. He wanted to-- say things, even if Duo wasn't able yet to understand. He couldn't bring himself to do that in front of Quatre.

'I need to go,' he said finally, just as the door opened, a middle-aged woman in scrubs striding through the unit to the monitors beside Duo's gurney. Wufei sidled awkwardly out of her path. 'I have a stop to make before my flight.'

'Take whatever time you need,' Quatre told him. 'Or want. I'll stall until you're ready for the debriefing. But when you do come in, we should talk more.'

'Yes,' he said, not quite agreeing to anything, not wanting to drag it out any longer. 'Good-bye.' He reached back, to squeeze Duo's foot again. Duo's eyes opened to dark slits, settling on him for just a moment. They slid closed again. 'Good-bye,' he said again, and turned to the door.

'Good-bye,' Duo echoed.

 

**

 

'The one on the left is Carlos Pasquez. The woman's Judith Beckham. They were in a resistance cell here on L2 during the war. They didn't get pulled into White Fang, unusually.'

'On L2? Extremely.' Wufei toggled the volume on the two-way mirror, but still couldn't discern more than an almost sub-audible murmur from the pair. They were middle-aged, Beckham grey-streaked in the short pony-tail that caught at the nape of her neck. 'They look normal.'

'Aside from the Gundam Pilots, I'd say most people who fought in the war did.' Maquinna handed him two thick manilla folders. 'Pasquez has a rap sheet-- assault. Went off on a taxi driver. _Not_ unusual on L2.'

'What's their connection to the murders?' Wufei asked.

'That's where it gets interesting.' Maquinna tapped the folder Wufei was flipping through. 'Read Beckham's profile there.'

He turned to her folder, skipping past the new booking entry. 'They were Sweepers,' he noted. And frowned at what he read next. 'They fought with the crew of _Peacemillion_ at the Battle of Libra. They would have known the pilot, Howard.' He looked up at the other man. 'Which means they knew Duo Maxwell.'

'Probably for years, and possibly from the start of the Gundam Project.'

Wufei absorbed it slowly, mind racing through the many possible interpretations of this new development. He followed each to its conclusion, and each time came back to the same endpoint.

'May I speak to them?' he asked Maquinna.

Who gestured him to the door. 'Be my guest. I have Pasquez's fingerprints on a shell casing, and a witness placing both of them at the scene. But I'd appreciate a little motive to gift-wrap for the Prosecutor.'

Wufei entered the grey interrogation room without further comment. Both the Sweepers at the table looked up for his appearance. Wufei closed the door quietly, knowing Maquinna would be recording everything said. There was a third chair at the small aluminium table where their conspirators sat, and Wufei joined them there, folding his hands on the cold surface. 'I'm Chang Wufei,' he said.

The man, Pasquez, broke first, a tiny unsuppressed glance at Beckham. So she was the leader. She was steely, and silent.

'I remember you,' Wufei lied politely. 'From _Peacemillion_. You were both in the pit crew.'

'Battle stations,' Pasquez corrected. He glanced at Beckham again. 'But you were pretty young then.'

'Forgive me.' It would have been the obvious thing to focus himself on Pasquez, as the likeliest to crack. Pasquez remembered him, and there was a slight deference in his tone as well. The handbook would have him build on that small exchange to develop a relationship, coaxing out tidbits, pretending to a friendliness and a sympathy that would encourage freer talk. But Wufei had learnt from watching Duo and even Keawe, this past month, and so it was to Beckham, the leader, he addressed himself.

'You were a part of Duo Maxwell's conspiracy eight years ago,' he said. 'If he survives, he will identify you.'

Pasquez blanched and stammered once. Beckham grew icier, her grey eyes staring brutally back at Wufei's.

'Or perhaps not,' Wufei admitted. 'Loyalty is worth lives on L2, isn't it. Which makes it all the more curious that you shot Maxwell, that day.'

Muscles in her heavy jaw flexed as she clenched.

'Not even a protest of good intentions?' Wufei did not soften or harden his gaze; he just met her look diffidently. 'I assume you were aiming at me.'

Finally she spoke. Her voice was like gravel, as flinty as her eyes. 'You chose your side.'

'Yes.' He watched, peripherally, Pasquez shifting uncomfortably. 'But you wouldn't shoot me just for being a Preventer, and you had no way of knowing how deep I was in with Maxwell. So we're back to my original hypothesis. You were shooting at Duo. Bren Keawe was just a bonus. You didn't know he'd be there. So why?'

Pasquez watched with a raw lip caught between yellowed teeth. Beckham was grinding her teeth, now, but Wufei got what he was looking for. A tiny twinge of doubt, and guilt.

'Liberty or death?' Wufei asked her softly. 'You were trying to save him, one way or another. You knew he was back on colony, being forced to work with Preventers. Or maybe he made contact with you, asked you to...'

'He asked us to back off.' Beckham at last looked down, her cuffed fists falling impotently to her lap. 'He'd put it together, knew the old crew was behind the deaths. He said-- that's not the way we were ever supposed to do it. He said, that's their way, taking innocent lives. He asked us to stop.'

Yet one last time to be surprised by Duo. 'You were supposed to take out Milchett and Keawe. To push the voting numbers away from a victory for Section VI. To push the colonies into a new rebellion.'

'It could have worked.' Pasquez was now defiant, at least until Wufei turned quizzical eyebrows to him. 'People just got to get angry enough. That's what Maxwell said-- before, I mean. Last time. They got to get angry enough to get involved. To fight.'

So Keawe really hadn't been the only one to think of that angle. Maybe... it was at least possible-- Duo had hinted at it, hadn't he? Whoever Keawe's backers were might be playing a deeper game than Keawe knew. They'd made him both their frontman, and their target.

And suddenly he was sick of it. He'd lived in this tangle for a month, slowly unravelling the knot of secrets and lies. And here, two soldiers he had fought with himself, two people who ought to have been above such selfish scheming, sat there with deaths on their hands, and nearly Duo's as well, for the sake of something that sounded more and more like revenge, not justice. Not freedom.

'So,' he said. He roughly pulled their folders into order. 'Now you have your answer to that. There are no people to listen to you-- only victims who will be occupied with their own suffering and grief. And you destroyed strong voices for reform, men and women who had a genuine desire to better your colony, the entire Earth Sphere. Even Duo Maxwell, who once thought the way you do, told you it was wrong now, and for trying to stop you you sentenced him to death too?' He shoved back his chair, meaning to leave even as his mouth formed the words. What stopped him, he wasn't entirely sure, except perhaps the force of his own terrible frustration. 'Do you remember what brought us to Libra?' he asked them. 'Do you remember why we fought that war at all? Because on the eve of a true concession to colonial interests, Treize Khushrenada fooled Heero Yuy into killing the Federation Doves. It was no accident. And it took away any chance we had to really control the direction of the war. That's what's been done to you here. What you did to yourself. When you kill off--' He drew a shaking breath. 'When you kill off the only voices which would have supported you--'

Beckham's hard face was cast in stone. Wufei watched a tear fall from short lashes, streaking down her wrinkled cheek before dropping from her chin. None followed it.

'I'm disappointed,' he told her. 'I'm ashamed. And I'm not even the one you betrayed. Hope that you get a chance to earn forgiveness.'

 

**

 

He spent most of the nineteen hour shuttle flight in exhausted sleep. He woke while they were still in orbit, gazing down at the ozone-blue curve of ocean and a drift of ragged cloud that obscured their eventual landing site in Beijing. He sipped juice from a plastic pouch distributed by the crew, too abjectly tired for coherent thought.

It was midday when at last they landed. Wufei disembarked into fitful sunshine, squinting at the smiling faces of slim Chinese girls who gave bright Mandarin instructions where to retrieve his luggage and where to secure a rail ticket. Wufei was a frequent traveller, and his thanks were absent-minded, impatient. He queued with the other passengers from his flight on the strip, dipping into an automatic half-bow of respect to the pilots as they climbed out last from the shuttle. The heat from re-entry steamed off the shuttle's bright white sides in the moist autumn air, making the evidence of his eyes waver dream-like.

The train ride was leisurely, an exercise as much in sight-seeing as distance travel. The cars zoomed quickly enough over the flatlands, but as they climbed in elevation and the ascent became steeper, they slowed often to accommodate the landscape. There was even a forty-five minute delay as a farmer herded his recalcitrant goats over the tracks. Wufei bought a greasy packet of noodles from the train's food carriage, ravenous now that his body began to remember the strain of full-force gravity, fresh air, even the weather system outside. He ate again, a congealed fruit pudding, just before they reached the depot in Chengde. He stepped onto the large concrete platform under the open sky with tremendous relief.

And indeed, nothing seemed to have changed during his absence, which was its own delight. He even caught the attention of the same taxi driver who had taken him to the depot more than a month ago. The driver, recognising him, nosed his cab through traffic and bullied his way past the other cabbies competing for passengers. Wufei was grateful merely not to have to waste his energy on conversation. Soon he was loaded into the warm leather interior of the cab with pleasant strains of old country music filtering past the privacy window, lulled by the rock and sway of traffic as they joined the grid-lock to the highways out of the city.

He had missed his home more this time. When he had been a little younger, it had been nothing to harry off on new missions every week-- and few had lasted longer than that, in the days when Preventers had been no more than elite commandos, the fast and deadly last resort meant to clean up a conflict no matter what it took. Those years had been full of adrenaline, as coups became militias because small isolated packs of guerrilla forces, became the occasional mad bomber, became the civilian protest edging on a riot. But peace had been an invasive force of its own, and Preventers had done their job so well that the real disturbances behind their creation died from attrition well before Preventers had justified their continued growth.

Those had been the days when Duo had started to agitate against the assumption of powers beyond the scope. Perhaps not an unwarranted concern, though Wufei had not cared to listen then. It had always seemed a ridiculous cavil, when Duo himself could be counted one of the original Preventers. A charge Duo had always vehemently denied. Mariemaia Barton and Ralph Kurt had required militaristic response, he'd said. Student riots did not.

But so the world had settled. Wufei had been comfortable in it. Preventers had been a home, a purpose, even an identity, and he had felt cleansed of the guilt and loneliness of his youth, no longer the sole survivor of a clan so righteously convinced of their superiority that they had sent their bookish scion to defend their sovereignty with the point of the sword. In Chengde, he was just another 'Chinese' face, perhaps a little rounder and a little paler than the Earth-born, but not so remarkable really. Time had given him the local accent, the market-place jargon that distinguished stranger from friend. He had bought his apartment from a hand-written advertisement at a local temple, posted by a retired gentleman who planned to move south to live with his grandson. He had even kept the old man's painted tiles in the garden, relishing the tiny imperfect touches that imbued the place with personality, age, importance. Often they were the first part of his home that he would see, climbing the steep uphill street to his gate. His little fountain would flow with clear, iron-lemoned water that wet his fingertips, his face, his lips; he would dry himself on the hanging rags that fluttered in the breeze, and smile to see the red-painted characters proclaiming peace and happiness to all who entered.

It eased him even now to observe that little ritual. To nod his head over the low stone wall at his elderly neighbour, Old Mai, whose grey head shook in grumbling, gumless disapproval. He left his duffels in the sunroom and walked his apartment, barefoot, to open all his windows and let the breeze in. He lit a bundle of incense at his small altar, setting it carefully upright on its ceramic dish, to soothe away the spirits that lingered, but he didn't pray. Not yet. He left the smoke curling lazily upward, and went on to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. He fetched water from the cistern outside and poured it through the filter beside it, catching only a few brown leaves and a reside of grey particles. He snacked on fried tofu as he re-oiled his cast-iron wok, defrosted a wrapped steak from his freezer, and steamed green beans over ginger and soy stock. He ate there in his kitchen, enjoying the warmth of the stove, the simple meal, the quiet. All over-due pleasures, that met his bones with satisfaction. Home.

The night was muggy and warm. Wufei lay atop his sheet, naked except for his undershorts. His balcony overlooked the garden, and the sway of his bamboo cast fanciful shadows on his bedroom wall. The mountains far off were nothing but a blackness against the starry sky, thick inky strokes of an unseen brush. Only the Emperor's Mountain Resort glowed fiercely, a white jewel laid on the velvet night, the eight Outer Temples like opals on a woman's necklace. When he fell asleep near dawn, it was to that image, that unknown artistic hand drawing the world on the canvas of space.

Over the next days he revisited all the places that made up his life in Chengde. He shopped in the market for fresh goods, met with a group of silent men and women atop Sledgehammer Peak for the daily tai chi chuan classes. He lit incense at the Morning and Evening Services at the temples, knelt there for hours in meditation-- though still he found his inner voice silenced, unable to wake. He walked up-river to watch the pole-men ferry their slim boats through the sluggish brown waters of the Rèhé, calling to each other in coarse yells that echoed off the cliffs all around them. He ate the simple communal fare sold by the old wives for pennies, rich saturated greens and meat stewed for days on ancient pit-stoves on the river banks. They knew him only as Chang, not even as a Preventer, and he sat at the crude wooden trestle tables to listen to their tales of the old legends, old politics, old heroes, though he had heard it all before and would again. It was a different kind of ancient tradition than the one he had been raised with. It had a gut and an authenticity, an earthiness that his grandmother's frigid silent tea rituals never had. Though it was in many ways an adopted culture, he embraced it whole-heartedly, flattered by its unspoken acceptance of him.

He might have slid right back into that life, too, if not for one incident.

It was a foggy morning, chillier than the past few days, and he donned an old coat to take his morning walk. He ranged wherever the wind directed him, usually, but that day he found himself turning back toward the city, away from the gentle pace of his suburb. He stopped to help a group of children rescue a toy boat from under the river bridge, and as he stood brushing the mud from his feet he found himself suddenly surrounded by a group of tourists headed for the Mountain Resort. Their loud curiosity and flashing cameras bemused him, and he only managed to smile and nod as their guide greeted him cheerfully. She sounded a bullhorn to gather them near, and began a sing-song narration about the history of the Resort at the top of her lungs. The tour groups came through every other week or so, during the season, and Wufei had long learnt to ignore them, but that day he couldn't stop staring at the faces of the strangers. They were all Chinese. Just like the city behind them was all Chinese, and the town Wufei lived in; everyone was the same. They all shared dark hair and tan skin, spoke the same language here, revered the same ancestry.

On L2, no two faces had been the same. By the end, he hadn't even seen the differences. Here, there were no differences to see.

He hadn't even realised he missed it.

 

**

 

Any multi-ethnic cravings he'd been having were more than satisfied by Brussels Capital-Region.

He'd spent as little time as possible in this centre of international, intergenerational politics. The sprawling, marbleised urbanity of the city and surrounding municipalities numbed his senses with an onslaught of the foreign, the overly-elegant Western notion of metropolitanism. Baroque buildings, Renaissance spires, wide tree-lined avenues filled with busily bustling Dutch and Franks, and these days as well no small population of Sanquians. But English was rare, and his study of language had been well-restricted by the xenophobic tendencies of his clan's patriarchs, such that he wandered lost with a phrase-book and a map like any tourist. Even the massive urban blight in Asian cities he knew like Hong Kong and Beijing felt less threatening, less remote-- the concrete and glass monoliths of those places, cursed with never-dark neon brights and clogged with motorists who never looked up-- even places like that were built for functionality, not a-- supercilious self-aggrandisement, as if the grandiosity of construction were the sole criterion for preferment.

And everywhere was the self-conscious display of history. Buildings bore multiple plaques and statues declaring the years of hosting this-or-that institution through centuries of civilised governance. There the old Belgian Parliament, now in the newly re-done 'European Quarter'; there the Justus Lipsius; there the Espace Léopold where Romafeller Council had held court for a brief, dark year; there the Kuntsberg, where the Earth Sphere Parliament was even now in recess, anxiously awaiting the will of the people so it would know which wind to sail on.

But he was only in the Capital-Region to find his way to the exterior. He booked a bus to Sint-Jans-Molenbeck, an upholstered and pleasant journey through the cultured villages and then open country-side of Belgium. He deferred the few queries directed at him, the only Asian face in a smiling rank of light-haired, light-eyed giants. All sense he'd had only a day earlier of belonging amongst a people who were identifiably the same as he vanished so completely he could not even recall the feeling.

He had a walk through the town to the hospital. His guidebook proclaimed it a bottling factory, a theatre, and finally a make-shift military hospice camp during the war, before entering into its final incarnation as a secured hospital for the criminal and ill. Both hospital and town had a certain industrial ugliness that set Wufei oddly at his ease. It was a town only barely removed from the hubub of the capital, yet it had the look of a history of hard times. Battle scars still showed on blown-out windows, too costly to replace, shattered brick and pulverised masonry piled into grassed-over hills, and over there, still visible a decade later, the distinct mark of a beam rifle blast from, he would guess, one of the Tragos units that had blitzed across Europe.

People might have died, here. Their children might have moved away, escaping memories. It was an empty place of boarded doors and silent streets.

A conscientious young guard let him through to the lobby lifts, provided he wear a visitors' badge-- a compromise they reached with some mutual embarrassment across the language barrier. Wufei took the lift to the third storey, which put him equal to surrounding rooftops visible outside under greying skies, and a rickety metal staircase one storey further to the more modern north wing. Signs of that lingering damage from the war was here, too. There were wires strung along the wall and tacked messily into place, leading to generators in the lower levels. Repairs had been made in all breakins, but plaster and paint had not progressed as quickly. Plastic sheeting was the only barrier into some corridors, and gave off clouds of dust to an incautious touch.

He opened a door at the end of the broad hall, just past an unmanned nurse's station where a portable television ran the local news. The door opened onto a common area of sorts, he supposed anyway. Round tables held a few grey-clothed patients each. One group fashioned messy sculptures of brownish clay. Another worked with paints and canvas, with a soft-voiced instructor standing over them. Others sat quietly reading, or listening to music playing on a radio by the windows.

No Duo, though.

Wufei caught the eye of a nurse, smiling with uneasy reserve at her attention. 'Duo Maxwell?' he asked.

'Who betekent u?' she asked, confusion darkening her hazel eyes.

'Maxwell,' he repeated, enunciating it carefully. 'Duo Maxwell.'

At last she shrugged, spreading her small hands helplessly. 'Geen met dat naam,' she said.

He didn't need to look that up to understand it was a negative. But Quatre's message had been very specific, and he was sure he was in the right hospital. Moreover, the guard below had not been surprised by his Preventers confidentials. Then why did the staff not know Duo's--

'Tyden Miller,' he said.

'Ah, ja.' She brightened, beckoning him along briskly. Not out the way he'd come in, but through a side door across the room, which led to a kind of walled-in rooftop garden that hadn't been visible from the ground. The broad greenhouse-like windows curved high overhead, offering a dusty greenish light over a stone-paved patio. Large ceramic urns and troughs held leafy, man-sized trees, some already bearing spring fruit in the moist warm air. He recognised lemons and oranges of the citrus trees, and something that might have been cherries growing up into a corner. Unconsciously he stood straighter, inhaling more deeply he had been willing to inside with the smells of the sick. It was an entirely different atmosphere.

And the man sitting on a blanket beneath the cherry tree was as familiar as breath. Duo wore the same grey jumpsuit as the other patients did, but the hood over his head transported Wufei back, for a quick seizure of the heart, to an adventure he had almost started to forget.

Crutches, proper crutches, balanced against the wall behind him. Duo was engaged in what seemed to be physical therapy, simple stretches performed without supervision-- the kind of thing a questionably mobile and undoubtedly charming patient could coax out of a doctor overloaded with needier charges. No bandages on the head, now, not that Wufei could see, and though Duo grimaced as he watched and rolled one shoulder as if it pained him, he looked as whole and well as ever.

And as sharp. He cast an eye slanted sideways, of a sudden, and said, 'Took you long enough.'

Wufei grinned fleetingly. He set his travel bag against the stone wall. 'I had business,' he answered.

'Bull.' Duo wiped sweat from his upper lip, gazing imperturbably at him. 'You're spatial.'

He wasn't sure if that was more dysphasia or not, and found it impolitic to ask. He dropped into a crouch at Duo's back, setting his hands to Duo's shoulders-- not without a moment of trepidation-- and massaged gently with stiff fingers. Duo was stiff too for a moment, but soon relaxed, his spine curving and head tilting as his resistance evaporated.

'Why are you wearing the hood?' Wufei murmured.

'There's been pics on the news.' Duo leant back against him. Wufei supported him between his knees, working his thumbs against tender, tense neck muscles. 'It's our anniversary.'

He thought at first Duo spoke romantically, and faltered in his touch. But almost immediately he knew what Duo really meant. He'd known it himself, in the back of his head somewhere, something unadmitted, bitter.

The Battle of Libra had ended on this day. 6:19 AM exactly, the very minute the shattered forces of OZ and White Fang had surrendered in mutual disarmament. Both enemies had been leaderless, but for the foresighted and humble actions of an OZ lieutenant, who had taken command of the largest battalion of Tauruses on the death of General Khushrenada, and Dorothy Catalonia, who had stepped forward after the apparent deaths of Merquise and Quanze in the fatal destruction of the Libra.

Slowly he resumed rubbing Duo's shoulders. Yes, there would be pictures, and possibly even old video-- possibly even the newscast from the day OZ had captured Duo Maxwell, the fifteen-year-old pilot of the hated Gundams, and dragged him on-colony to be publicly tried and put to death. Wufei had never heard the truth of that story, how Duo had escaped from custody-- only that OZ had learnt their lesson, and there had been no smug public celebrations when they had captured him again, and Wufei and Heero too, on the Lunar Base. There were so many unexplained gaps in his reckoning of the war. He had never known, might never find out, what had tipped the balance after almost a month of captivity there; one minute all had been normal, even genteel-- no mistreatment, even if Duo had arrived beaten and bleeding-- and the next they had heard, simultaneously, the sudden cessation of that slight hiss of in-pumped oxygen. He had prepared himself to die-- welcoming a peaceful end, even. Then Duo's hand on his chin, shaking him to the bone, and a relief in blue eyes he had dismissed as ignorant, common sentiment, when Duo had seen that Wufei lived.

He'd never really shaken that impression of Duo. A pervading prejudice he was ashamed to carry still. And, all along, tinged with jealousy, that Duo so easily, so freely allowed himself to feel, to attach, to bond-- to love.

'You're thinking too hard.' Duo tapped him on the knuckles. 'Stop it. And take me back to my room. I'm tired.'

He helped Duo to his feet, cushioning him until he was sure Duo could support himself on the injured knee. He bundled the blanket to carry with them, as Duo got situated on his crutches. 'I thought Quatre might be here,' he offered.

'He was. Called back. He left Chihuahua to watch me.'

'Chihuahua? Dog?'

Duo nodded toward a man who, indeed, watched them avidly as they re-entered the recreation room. He had a pinched face with overlarge black eyes. Wufei stifled a smile at Duo's brutally accurate description of his looks.

Duo's room was not too far away, appropriate to his compromised mobility. It was pleasant enough, the bed covered with a light quilt, the sidetable gifted with a little vase of spring blossoms, but it was just a cell. There were bars on the small window, and an alarm on the door that surely padlocked the prisoners in at night.

Duo eased onto the bed, releasing a heavy sigh. 'Remember, I said real pain was honest, at least?'

Wufei set the blanket on the guest chair. 'Yes, I suppose.'

'Honest or not, I almost want the implant back. This blows.'

Irreverently, Wufei discovered he could smile, even if it faded. Duo seemed pleased to have elicited a reaction from him. He laid back, stuffing pillows behind his head. 'But you're recovering,' Wufei observed. 'Quickly.'

'So they tell me.' At rest, though, he seemed drawn. 'The knee's the worst, actually. The zonker's next off.'

A little too much slang in one short conversation, he decided, even for Duo. He was still mixing words, with no evident awareness he was doing so. Wufei probed carefully, saying, 'You seem to have a certain amount of freedom, at least.'

'As in, more than in prison?' Duo snorted. 'I know where I am. Most the time. It comes and goes. They have me on a pill. It helps, I guess.'

Wufei shifted from foot to foot. He was tired, mostly from the flight, from the many hours of travel, the assault on his nerves. He wasn't up to dancing words with Duo. It was a good thing Quatre wasn't there, really.

Duo regarded him quietly for a while. Long enough for Wufei to drift out of his thoughts and become slowly aware of the silence.

'You look bruised,' Duo said then. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault. Or your idea.'

'Still.'

'I'll learn to live with it. We do. Adapt.'

'Bull,' Duo said again. He closed his eyes. 'There's no cameras in here. Quat promised-- and I checked it. Come lie down with me.'

It wasn't a will to resist that kept him still. It really wasn't. He wasn't sure what did, just that no command came from within him to move.

Duo opened his eyes. A muscle in his jaw clenched, then slackened. 'Okay,' he said. 'Just keep standing there, then. Forget I asked.'

'Duo.'

'No. No, I think we're past this part already. I don't have the time to fuck around coddling you into it.' He rolled to his side, pulling one of the pillows under his knee. 'I'm tired and I'm not going anywhere. Go check in with your Council. Debrief.'

He did have to. He'd wanted a night's sleep first. A meal, at least.

'Tom saw me,' Duo said. 'Before we left L2. I know you slept with her.'

He opened his mouth, to defend himself or her, he didn't know. In the end, all he could think of to say was, 'Yes.'

Duo laughed. 'Mary and Joseph. Okay. Yeah, okay.'

'I understand if you're angry.'

'I'm not. I know her. And you. I know serious when I see it.'

'Serious-- no. It wasn't-- it just was-- once.'

'Only if you act with her the way you do with me.' Duo propped his head on his hand. 'Did I-- look--' He sat up, to face Wufei, who straightened reflexively. 'Why haven't you found anyone, Wufei? It's been more than eight years since you and me, since you and Sally, and you're about to let Tom fall through your fingers because you'd rather pretend it was a casual hookup than a real connection with another human being. I thought this was about you and your sexuality, but it's more than that, isn't it?'

'What do you want me to say?' His temper frayed abruptly, and he tumbled over the edge without even the opportunity to catch himself. 'That your leaving neutered me? That I'm incapable of feeling anything for anyone because of you?'

'If that's not true, then why do you act like it is?'

That brought him up short. 'I don't know,' he said.

Duo caught his lower lip between this teeth. 'I'm sorry.'

'No.' He passed his hand over his mouth, rubbed the back of his neck. 'I don't know, Duo. It's not as if I don't wish it were different.'

'Then come here.'

He did. Duo took him by the wrists, tugging him down. He sat by Duo's knee, dropping a palm to cover it gently. Bandages under the jump suit. Duo batted his chin with a loose fist.

'You're the most frustrating man I've ever known,' Duo said. 'I guess that's why I love you. God forbid I ever do anything easy.'


	12. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But it was time to start making choices again. Time to stop waiting for fate to fling him onto new shores, as Quatre had called it once. Not even Duo had a sermon to tell him how to decide for himself._

A nurse, perhaps in consideration of his status as a Preventer and guest, brought them sugary tea with a little plate of chocolate Belgian biscuits, a kind offering he received with another uneasy smile. It was getting late enough that he was hungry-- enough to wonder, on travel-jangled nerves, when the dinner hour was locally. Duo demurred to share, but Wufei still conserved himself to a small portion and a single cup of the tea.

'You never talked about L2,' he said. 'When we were on Earth before.'

'You weren't interested,' Duo replied. 'You were going through your own stuff.'

'I would have listened.'

'But not cared.' Duo hunched a shoulder. The good shoulder. 'It was okay, Wufei. It wasn't to be mean. You just didn't feel the way I did.'

That was a typical Duo statement. Just like the world Duo lived in, in his warren of a mind, at least, oddly homogeneous, a world of absolutes where the most absolute decree was that every truth had indeterminate edges.

Like that 'venn' business. It implied a degree of loyalty, demanding-- something like fair haven, in Lonny's case, when Lonny had likely rather live the rest of his life without Duo Maxwell and a Preventer coming to call. From Tom, it had demanded she set aside her better judgment, of both Duo and of him, ending in her detriment. Even from Duo, who had called all of the colony his venn, his overlap-- it had wrung sacrifice after sacrifice, that loyalty, that love, and yet not one of them had once protested a loss. Even Keawe fit in that world; from whatever motivation, there had begun between Wufei and Keawe a kind of bond. Keawe had wanted loyalty from him, understanding, collusion-- and hadn't killed him when it was refused. Cloudwalker called it amateur. Wufei thought it blatantly self-destructive, inherently self-endangering, to leave a professed enemy alive behind you, and it was no point of honour that had stayed Keawe's hand, as it had Treize Khushrenada's, all those years ago. Venn. They were linked, now. And by everything he had seen, that drive to connect could never be abrogated. It was an obligation. Like love.

It wasn't-- native. Not to him.

Nor was it-- explicitly foreign. His childhood had been filled with homilies of obligations owed before birth and after death. From obligation he had taken on a warrior culture that had seemed antiquated and backward to a boy yearning for the new and modern. From obligation he had taken on a child-bride, to whom all of that world of strictures and duties had been natural, a girl who had died in the zealous embrace of an ethos that had ultimately demanded her martyrdom. From obligation, Wufei had taken her place, too tormented by his failures even to enjoy the unprecedented freedom that had resulted.

And the ethnically Manchu city into which he'd injected himself now was not-- entirely native, either, and he'd known that when he'd chosen Chengde instead of some city in an ethnically Han province like Jiangsu. He'd been leery of belonging too much, of finding too much familiar in that living ancestry of his dead clan. He'd deliberately placed himself outside his own culture, afraid... afraid, maybe, to find another moral weakness in himself that would, once more, overcome his intellectual resolve.

Yet when had he ever succeeded in that? He'd fought a war he did not believe in because his clan had given him a weapon and named their enemies for him. And he had fought another war after that, because he could not reconcile in himself the warrior with the survivor. Joined Preventers, in a fading hope of righting a cosmic balance by protecting life instead of taking it. Rebelled, he'd thought then, with the young man who sat now looking at him with rather more love than he had ever given back to anyone.

'I cared,' he said.

Duo's mouth opened. He didn't say anything. At last, he just nodded.

He was frustrated. He was-- angry. He didn't know what he was, what Duo was, that Duo could sit there facing what he was facing, having done the things he'd done and just sit there, daring to be human. His eyes were dry.

Duo cupped a hand to his cheek. 'Jesus,' he whispered. 'I really fucked you up.'

'You don't get total credit.'

'No. You get a hefty portion, letting it happen. You need to make some choices, Wufei. You need to get your shimmies up--'

'Shimmies?' Frustration flitted across Duo's face at Wufei's interruption, let out before he could truly think about it. 'The dysphasia,' Wufei explained, stilted in his embarrassment.

Duo pressed his lips between his teeth, leaving them white when he released them. 'Sorry,' he said. 'Just-- try to get past the way I say it to what I'm trying to say. You have to be strong. You are strong. You just get mired down in your own head, sometimes.'

'And you were always so put together it was scary.'

'Some of us can feel and make decisions at the same time.' Duo brushed Wufei's hair back over his ear. 'You'll get there someday.'

'Why did you decide on me, Duo?'

Quiet eyes came up to his. Then a small smile curved Duo's mouth upward. 'There's a lot of other questions behind that one, isn't there.'

Yes. And he did wonder-- he did wonder if the Wufei Duo thought he was reaching even still existed. It had been seven years since Duo had gone to prison. If there had been love, surely seven years was time enough to crystalise it, idealise it, and forget how fallible and human the reality had been. Was still. He'd done so little right on L2.

But it was time to start making choices again. Time to stop waiting for fate to fling him onto new shores, as Quatre had called it once. Not even Duo had a sermon to tell him how to decide for himself.

He kissed the back of Duo's hand, his knuckles. And his mouth, with the smile there fading. Duo's arm came about his back in a gentle embrace-- one that tried to hold, in sudden desperation, just for a moment when he felt Wufei drawing away. But almost immediately he let go after all, his face turned away, frozen so the pain wouldn't show.

'I'll be back,' Wufei said. He gathered his travel bag with him. 'I have to check in at my hotel. And debrief with the Council.'

Duo nodded. He picked at a loose thread in the quilt. 'See you later, then.'

'Do you want anything? Anything they haven't let you have here?'

'No. It's all right, really.'

'All right.' He hesitated, only from a sense that he shouldn't leave it at that. He roused himself, and opened the door.

Duo got the final word, then. 'Keawe's still in town,' he said. 'Miraculously recovered from his poisoning. He's holding a press conference tonight, at the Colonial Enclave. Just in case you'd want to know.'

 

**

 

He was joined in the corridor of Preventers' Brussels Headquarters by two faces he had not quite internally prepared to see. Quatre and Noin emerged from the lift, deep in a low-voiced argument that terminated abruptly when Noin noticed him. Wufei rose from his uncomfortable wooden bench, hovering self-consciously in the multi-toned light of a stained glass window.

Quatre straightened himself, shoulders back, briefing case held stiffly at his side. 'Did you get enough time at home?' he asked. 'You're rested?'

'Yes,' Wufei said shortly. 'Thank you.'

Noin regarded him with the same cool gaze as always, no matter the years between them. The severe cut of her close-cropped hair drew unkind attention to the deep lines around her eyes and mouth. Wufei supposed he might not look any different.

'I'm sure we're almost ready for you,' Quatre said. He ventured nearer, but still maintaining a strictly correct distance between Councilman and lowly field agent. 'We'll have the usual rigamoroll-- they ring the idiot bell, call to order, announcements-- and we've a vote on schedule, too, but it's fairly cut and dried... Omar Heron is only one who hasn't indicated yet--'

'Quatre,' Noin rebuked him sharply.

'—where he stands.' Quatre's eyes flicked between them, and returned to Wufei. 'Perhaps twenty minutes,' he said.

'It's fine,' Wufei demurred. 'I'm just going over my notes.'

'It's good you've brought them. Everyone should have a copy of your report by now. Most will even have read it.'

'Quatre,' Noin said again.

'I'm forever in trouble of my tongue,' Quatre observed dryly to him. The lift arrived a second time with a new load of passengers, more Council members-- who hailed Quatre and Noin but ignored Wufei entirely. Quatre shrugged an apology at him. 'See you inside,' he said, and turned for the Council Chamber. 'You'll do fine.'

'Thank you,' Wufei echoed, but the corridor was already empty again, the Chamber door snicking closed with a soft sigh. He resumed his bench, folding his own brief case into his lap.

In truth he had not looked at his report since submitting it a week ago. He anticipated harsh criticism, for all the bounds of his authority had been murky and his intel deliberately faulty. He was not a favourite in that Chamber. He didn't curry favour, even from friends like Quatre who might have aided his career in the usual course of things, the system of patronage that had grown as the original core of Preventers had eventually become the Command. He was not, as more than Maquinna had accused, a General-baiter, but he had never believed in turning his cheek to bad orders. Those were plentiful enough. At least Quatre and Noin had had, however briefly, real experience in field command. Most of the Council had not, and they sometimes made truly ridiculous demands that escaped Une's filters and wreaked havoc until someone wiser was able to stop the carnage.

Power without responsibility, Quatre had called it. But the converse was that agents on the ground had all the responsibilities, with no backing to support the uneasy and necessary decisions made in the snap of fingers.

The swing of the door startled him. He jumped back to his feet. It was only Lieutenant Colombia, Une's secretary. The young man gestured for him, and said, 'They're ready for you, Agent.'

Already? He glanced at his watch. Half an hour had passed already. He didn't feel like it. He had a cold sweat, on his brow. He swiped it quickly away with the back of his hand and followed Colombia into the antechamber. 'I can take your coat,' the lieutenant offered amiably, and displayed not a twitch of amusement at his awkward juggling as he shifted files and brief case to surrender his duster. Colombia hung it on the rack for him, and motioned him to follow through the next set of doors.

He had, in fact, reported in this Chamber before, though the composition of the Council had been much different-- and smaller. Though his own uniform had not significantly changed since those early days, the ones worn by Councilmen had grown considerably grander, more than a shade of parade-ground formals. Olive mixed with navy and maroon, a rainbow of solemn tones stretched over thick bellies and weighed down with a furious assortment of medals and chains, the meanings of which were obscure. He had a box of his own medals, somewhere, never worn.

He imagined, then, how Duo would scoff at this sleek modern room with its giant pearl-grey comm screens, imposing tall-back leather chairs, the oversized oak table that dwarfed the twenty-six men and women who populated it. Posers, Duo would say, and dismiss them with a careless flap of his hand.

Une, the nominal head of the arced table, inclined her head at his entrance. 'Agent Scarab,' she greeted him. 'Welcome home.'

It was, for Une, a decidedly odd hello. Wufei returned it with a stiff nod.

'Colombia, record, please.' A formality, that. All Council doings were recorded. No-- this was a new addition; Colombia went to the bank of CPUs subtly arranged in the corner, and in a moment the largest viewscreen raised a small window that displayed the Council Chamber from four angles. A red light blinked three times, and settled to a steady gleam.

'Agent Scarab, reporting on Case N 09-46,' Une declaimed with iron patience. 'Agent, please be at your ease.'

Odder still. He'd once reported bleeding from a head wound and had received the icy advice to stand in the presence of his commander. On that thought, he did not take the-- small and wooden-- seat available to him on this side of the half-circle table. He did lock his knees.

'We've heard from Maxwell already,' Philpott said, drawing Wufei's gaze to a perpetually frowning mouth and a prematurely balding glare. 'Somewhat incoherently.'

'Yes, sir.'

'It's his undoubtedly unbiased opinion that the situation on L2 can be left to the monitoring of the local Preventers base.' Philpott rubbed his doubled chin. 'You concur.'

'I believe the locals are prepared to do so. Yes.'

'But are they capable? Your earlier reports indicated some partisanship.'

'A miscommunication on my behalf.'

Une interrupted with a dismissive flap of her own. 'You were there to turn a suspicious eye to all activity,' she said. 'It was your duty.'

'But now you officially throw your support--'

'He said he agrees, Lawrence.' That from Anedra Robeson, who had come to Preventers as the survivor of the OZ purge of Federation hold-outs. Blunt in the best of times, sometimes violently temperamental. There were unsubtle eye-rolls at her contribution.

'I do,' Wufei tried to answer. 'The local head, Lieutenant Cloudwalker--'

'What about the rest of the Colonies?' Noin asked him. 'Did you gather any sense of a more global involvement, or was this rooted in L2, like last time?'

That, at least, he was prepared to answer. It was something of a softball question, unexpected only in that it came from her-- and that it seemed to be directed at the rest of the Council, since he'd already outlined this at length in his report.

'At present the conflict is confined to L2 and its satellites,' he responded neutrally. 'But there is little question that agreements have been reached with foreign influences, and possibly with foreign authorities. Keawe must have financial backers, primarily. Further investigation focussed on sources we identified as likely will clarify--'

'So Maxwell's scheme is alive and well,' Berglind, from the Bureau of Intelligence Resources, complained. 'Are we going to face this beast every decade?'

'Yes,' Quatre answered mildly. 'Until the Colonies have the financial strength to stand on their own, I would say.'

That fell like a gauntlet before a duel. Steven Hsu, the Asian Sector Chief, was the first to take it up-- with a laugh. 'Section VI,' he chortled. 'Slick, Winner.'

Indeed. They'd sent him to L2, less informed than Duo, less educated in cultural points like Section VI that could and would have made a difference in how he approached mission strategy. They were in a position to laugh, safe on Earth. They were playing politics. Word games with each other, scoring little digs at the expense of child gangsters who were probably even now creeping down the streets to confront each other.

'Not for nothing,' Noin said, 'but, yes, Section VI. And may I remind you all that the vote is now scheduled for Monday.'

'You're blowing the damn thing out of proportion,' General Boyd complained suddenly and peevishly. 'More Colonial nonsense that just validates the inflated egos of would-bes like Bren Keawe. I for one am tired of all the talk-talk-talk--'

'Oh, for God's sake, Vernon--'

'Let him bitch, or we'll be here all day,' Blancato muttered, and sat back with his coffee nestled on his chest.

'Sir,' Wufei tried. 'My report is by no means exaggerated.'

'This ridiculousness,' Boyd went on, voice rising steadily over his detractors, 'this bleeding-heart bill. Liberal scare tactics. Pass or fail, what difference does it make? The rabble will find another cause to back, and then we're caught with our tail between--'

'With whatever respect may be due, General--'

'Someone tell Vernon that the duty of a government is to actually provide for the people it governs,' Frazer said.

'If the Colonials want any respect at all they should quiet down and make something with what they've been given before now!'

'With whatever respect you would have been due before you got your head so far up your ass, General--' Wufei finally won all eyes back on himself, with that outburst ringing off the walls. Mouths actually hung open. He stood there clenching his fists to stop himself from leaping over the table with one of them leading. He had certainly not meant to speak, much less shout-- but the self-satisfied cross-talk of his superiors had started a flare of fire in his head that grew with each point-beside-the-point.

'Did you hear what he said to me?' Boyd demanded, shoving out of his chair. 'You little pigtailed--'

'Boyd,' Hsu said. 'Shut the hell up, or I'll help him foot-bind you.'

In for a penny, anyway.

'With whatever respect,' Wufei repeated heavily, 'people have already died for Section VI. Preventers have the solemn duty to safeguard innocent lives. If we're going to be caught expending resources, let it be in doing that. The people do see us. The people do know when they are unprotected and alone. And in an absence of leadership, then we see “would-bes” like Bren Keawe stepping forward. Don't mistake him for another greedy politician or a puppet for stronger men. He's a believer. It makes him twice as dangerous, because the people need to be believed. If Section VI doesn't pass this week there will be blood spilling in the Colonies within the hour. At the very damn least we should be in the streets in force to stop what we can. Sir.'

Boyd spluttered. He wasn't the only one. Noin was nodding firm agreement, though. Quatre smiled sadly, when their eyes met.

Une called a halt to any further reaction by rapping her waterglass with a pen. The gentle clink, and her stern stare, immediately established a grumbling silence.

'With no further questions,' she said, 'we thank Agent Scarab for his report. Let's call the vote.'

The rapidity of the turnover surprised him out of the last of his temper. Lieutenant Colombia touched his arm, and he turned to obey the guide before he remembered to take his brief case with him. Colombia let him out into the coat room, and helped him back into his jacket. 'Thank you,' he said, too vaguely, but already absorbed in the replay of what had been said or not-said inside. 'You're sure they have my report?' he asked.

'Yes, they do, Agent.' Colombia's smile was brisk. 'Sir, if you'll wait outside, there may be further questions for you.'

'Of course.'

He'd won no ground in there, certainly, not with an unsolicited speech. General-baiter indeed. And yet if he'd extended what little credit he might have had to make what Boyd at least surely interpreted as a personal attack-- he'd been foolish. He'd held his tongue at all the right times on L2, no small accomplishment. But the moment he was among professionals, in front of his command for a formal report, he suddenly couldn't hold back? Fool.

It was rather longer this time for the doors to open. Only a small third of the Council emerged; he could hear talk continuing inside. The Councilmen who exited the Chamber either ignored him entirely or after a single scornful glance. Wonderful, he thought dully.

Quatre came out somewhat after that group, ahead of the second wave, the younger ones who chatted about a local restaurant as they passed. As if nothing inside had been of the least consequence. But Quatre came straight to Wufei, and said immediately, 'You did very well, Wufei, extremely well.'

'I fail to see how,' he retorted, before he caught himself. 'Sorry. But I don't think I much affected any decisions in there.'

'But you did. You got the one we needed. Omar Heron voted with us. A simple majority, and if the five who were supposed to vote today had dragged themselves in, we would have lost it, but you got Omar to commit. We're throwing seven battalions into the Colonies in case Section VI fails.'

That, at least, was news. Wufei drew a slow inward breath. 'Good. I hope.'

'And,' Quatre said, 'as Outpost Advisor, I get some oversight on the battalion commands. So we can at least limit the uglier misunderstandings from the outset.'

Better news. 'I don't think you'll be sending General Boyd,' he observed, hoping it passed like humour.

It did. Quatre smiled again. 'No, I'd rather think not. You could go though, if you want it.'

'Me?'

'You're hardly unqualified. And you know some of the locals now.' Quatre had his arms crossed over his chest, hugging his brief case close. His expression was a curious thing, keen behind a mask of diffidence.

A test. A challenge, more accurately. That promotion Quatre had spoken of. Command.

Wufei drew another breath, this one just to stretch his lungs, clear his head. 'When does Duo go back to prison?' he asked.

Quatre's eyes fell away, his cheeks suffusing with blood. 'He's set for hospital release in two weeks.'

That, Wufei thought, might well answer for the vote they'd held before he'd entered the Chamber. The Council had been disinclined to a merciful gesture, then.

He couldn't even be surprised. He'd never really expected it of them. Hadn't even hoped. But he found-- a little sympathy for Quatre, who apparently had. It was the Quatre he had always known, the one with unquenchable belief in his fellow man. Despite the manifest disappointments.

It could be enough time to get to the Colonies and back. If Section VI did pass, and there wasn't a revolution. A war. He'd advocated protection. It could just as easily become an occupation. And he couldn't say that wouldn't be necessary-- militarily, humanely, if not-- ethically.

'I want to be with him,' he said. 'When he goes back.'

'I can say I'll try to make it possible. I can-- only say I hope it will be. If you take a command in Space.'

Honest. Realistic. And still his choice.

Quatre touched his shoulder. 'I'm half starved,' he said. 'It's past supper. Let me take you out somewhere. A quiet place.'

'Yes,' he agreed, forcing his mouth to curve in as much a smile as he could manage just then. But then he checked his watch again. 'Actually--' He stood, grabbing his brief case. 'Actually, let's get something we can walk with. There's something I want to see at nine.'

 

**

 

Keawe arrived precisely on time for his press conference, Tamara the bodyguard faithfully in tow. Large screens set to either side of the podium broadcast Keawe's face-- noticably thinner, eyes artfully smudged. He must have spent some time over a toilet with an emetic, to achieve the appearance of the poisoning he was supposed to have suffered. Wufei gave him a grudging point for commitment to realism.

The Colonial Embassy, one lone mansion dedicated to the official needs of all humans in Space, shone with a sort of desperate lustre tonight. It had never been a very beautiful building, squatted along a side street like an afterthought, and age and neglect during the long years of the Federation Occupation had contributed to the sort of second-rate air that hung about the place. Faded silk buntings hanging between faux-marble columns draped just a bit listlessly. Topiaries were too shaggy to look fresh. The Press Room even had a layer of dust accumulating in the corners and the bare rafters that a quick polish had not eliminated. Cheap folding chairs had been crammed onto the floor beneath the podium for the press corps, who had turned out at least in flattering number. The Colonial Representatives had arrived en masse in support of their speaker, lining the walls with solemn, worried faces. The din was unchecked as people shouted to be heard, banks of lights in the process of setup blinding whole swaths of the audience of random intervals, and antiquated ventilation was quickly losing the battle against the buildup of body heat.

They-- more precisely, Quatre-- caught notice from the occupants of that stuffy room as they slipped inside, but they were saved from being diverted for questions by the careful timing of their arrival. Keawe stepped to the podium, notes in hand, and his microphoned voice boomed out asking for silence.

He got it. The press settled into their chairs immediately, a few who had strayed too far away scrambling to get back quickly. The cameras and lights brightened once, then fell to an attentive glow. Within a minute, the only sound was a faint hum of electronics.

'Thank you all for coming tonight,' Keawe began. He spread his hands on either side of the podium, chin proudly high. Wufei chewed the inside of his cheek, nerves or something different-- darker-- churning his stomach. 'We all know the subject of my talk tonight,' Keawe continued. 'I'm not here to toss fancy words at it, to try and win last-minute political points. I don't have a speech writer. I don't even have an aide with a sharp stick standing next to me to keep me from saying the wrong things. If I make a gaffe tonight, at least I'm not wandering off the script. There is no script. I've got these notes here--' He held them up, then let them fall with an audible plop. 'And that's all the wisdom and planning I have at hand to get me through this. But the reality is that I already know I've come here to fail. On Monday my fellow Parliamentarians will vote on a bill package which includes Section VI, an economic stimulus designed to bring relief to one point seven-five billion of our brothers and sisters in Space who don't have a voice. Who don't have hope. Who don't have much of a chance or even a fair shake without Section VI, and who don't ever expect they'll get it.'

If Wufei hadn't already believed in the power Bren Keawe had to make others listen, he would have believed it then. There was a sincerity in the words that tricked even Wufei's experience of Keawe's duplicity. Keawe believed himself without question. It drew the rest of them in. The press sat in unusually respectful quiet, staring up at him.

'Brothers and sisters,' Keawe said again. 'Yes. That's what we've learnt, in our lifetimes, in the decades of spoken and unspoken war that brought mobile suits onto our streets, guns into our schools, armies into our skies. We're not just united by a common disgust for being used by our supposed leaders. We have a common bloodline. We have a common past. We even have a common calendar to underline the very achievement that split humanity between land and stars. After Colony. Seven generations ago they changed time itself to celebrate something miraculous. The first colony, Lagrange 1, a Stanford Island-2 Type torus housing a hundred forty thousand permanent residents, was completed in AC1. AC1. And for forty years after AC1 there was peaceful development in Space. Peaceful migration of our common ancestors. Then war. Uncompleted colonies drifted empty in orbit. We lost funding as Earth nations looked to their people still on the dirt, and then we lost lives when the fighting jumped the atmosphere to us. It took three decades for the Middle Eastern Coalition to step in as mediators, to offer to mine asteroids to support the people dying in Space. To support the dream that was dying up there, man's continued existence in Space, man's expansion through the natural universe, the stars we were born out of. We've been in those stars now for two hundred years. And let me return to the central tenet of this accomplishment: when we look across an ozone barrier, to planet or to colony, we look on our own blood. Our own history. I ask-- I ask--'

He interrupted himself with a dramatic sway on unsteady feet-- just a momentary, modestly underdone little touch, but it sparked an instant murmur of concern amongst the press, and Tamara was not the only stage attendant who took a precautionary step toward the podium. Wufei closed his eyes to it. He'd been right, in his initial assessment of Keawe's gifts. Charm and manipulation. But with a pitch-perfect instinct for making it look absolutely real. He knew exactly how the headlines would read. _Visibly ill and shaken Colonial makes heart-felt plea--_ oh yes.

Keawe was white-faced under the bright lights, sweat gleaming on his temples. He renewed his grip on the podium. 'I want to call on the press here tonight,' he said. 'To call attention to the ruthless and deceitful murders of members of this Parliament who supported Section VI. Representative Su-Tu. Representative Emile Gethin. Representative Antonin Martynov. Representative Lord John Berkley. Representative Melinda Milchect. All these deaths were reported as accidents, but the truth is known now. Preventers on L2 have uncovered evidence of the plot that ended Melinda Milchect's life, and they can confirm as well that this conspiracy was extended to myself, by arranging to have us both poisoned before the vote.'

Damn it. Keawe had just publicly dared Preventers to call him out, call him a liar, knowing Wufei and Cloudwalker would have reported his plotting. He had just effectively co-opted their authority to his lies.

'He's good,' Quatre whispered. 'I'd hate to go on after him.'

'So I ask you,' Keawe said. 'When you report on this conference, give the people the truth. They deserve to know the whole story-- and to know that people have died and will continue to give their lives over what may seem to some to be nothing more interesting than a few bank transfers. Help the people make that old connection, to remember our common bond of brotherhood. Colonist, Earther, we're all the same. And we all get the same chances, if we remember it's in our power to give. So when you run this story, I want you to put up this clip with it, this right here. I'm asking the people to take back their common voice. Don't let this decision be made in a vacuum of the few and the powerful. Don't wait on protest permits, don't wait on making signs, don't write letters, don't call hotlines or fill out on-line petitions. Get out and be seen. Go stand on the lawn of every law maker in the Earth Sphere and show them that they only have the power to represent your will. Tell them to vote for a common humanity, and hold them responsible for it after they cast the ballot Monday. Get out there and be heard. Thank you all. No questions.'

'Damn,' Quatre said. He already had his mobile out, slipping in the earpiece and turning away for the door. 'Hold them off until I notify-- Bhatia, get me on with Une, now.'

Relena Peacecraft had defused the urgency once, but not even she could divert a flood of keyed-up protesters turning out Sphere-wide. This was more, far more than seven battalions in the colonies. Keawe had just incited the very chaos they had been trying to cure.

And the savvier amongst the press had tuned to that almost as quickly as he had. The ones who had seen Quatre and Wufei enter were making a bee-line through the crowd to get to them, even as Quatre hurriedly paraphrased the threat into his comm. Cameras were turning toward him, now, and those who were broadcasting live were already repeating Keawe's call to arms, sending it out across the airwaves uncensored.

Wufei broke from his position at Quatre's side. He pushed past a reporter who tried to ask his name, and shoved his way through a knot of excited journalists checking quotes with each other. The side door Keawe had left through was still open, two of the local Embassy men in position to either side. Wufei threw his badge in their faces, not so much as slowing for their verification. He burst past them and into the service corridor, looking left and right for--

'Keawe!' he shouted, and a dozen yards ahead, framed by his assistants and his guard, a dark head turned back to him.

'It's all right,' Keawe told Tamara. He fully faced Wufei, sliding his notes into an inside pocket of his suit coat. 'Agent Scarab,' he said. 'I didn't know you were on Earth.'

'Miss your show?' Wufei walked slowly toward him, as the noise of the crow in the press room died with a shut door. 'It was a good performance.'

'Only good?' Keawe smiled a little, stepping out of the protective circle of his flunkies. His shoulders were tenser with each step of Wufei's boots.

'Only good,' Wufei echoed. 'Oh, they'll play the clip.'

'I imagine so.'

'But you would have had more lasting coverage if you'd warned them what a “no” vote will bring.'

'Ah. You think?'

'That pretty speech will be lost in one news cycle after the first shot is fired in Space.' He came to a halt just inside the space that made Tamara twitch for her sidearm, perhaps two feet from Keawe, close enough to smell his cologne, to see the streaks of cake powder that had produced the artificial paleness of his skin. 'How will they remember your face then?' he asked.

'It's the vote that's important, not me,' Keawe answered gravely.

'I wouldn't be so sure. Not if you rely on the common people to be your troops. Undisciplined mobs tend to want direct supervision-- frequent reminders where to strike and when not to. Without a visible leader, they're just looters and arsonists.'

'I think you're underestimating--'

'No,' Wufei said. 'Take the free advice. If I'm going to waste a year destroying you, you should at least be a worthier opponent.'

Keawe's dark eyes flickered. 'We're not enemies, Agent.'

'Chang,' Wufei said, breaking every rule in the handbook and possibly endangering his life in the mix, and daring Keawe right back to so much as try him. 'Chang Wufei. Pilot of Gundam Shenlong, built by the clans of L5 to bring down the tyrants of the Earth Sphere in flame. Treize Khushrenada died on my sword. If you think you can do better, I'll meet you on the battlefield.'

 

At last Quatre turned off the conference vid, plunging them into much-needed relief from the eye-straining glow of the screens. Wufei rubbed his temples; Quatre rolled his head on his neck, producing two sharp cracks and a deep sigh.

'I suppose it's gratifying to know we guessed right with Keawe,' Quatre observed wearily. 'Or Duo did. How he knew, I'll always wonder.'

Wufei said nothing. He had a sheaf of printed and hand-written notes from the hours they'd spent in conference, and the only sleep he was likely to get in the near future was in the car to the shuttleport, a luxury of a half hour before he had to be awake enough to study what his tired mind had only half-absorbed. He had command of the mission-- one battalion to cover L2 and L3, and one more to cover the remaining clusters, the much-reduced force left after Command redistributed every man standing to cover every anticipated hot spot on Earth. There were already five thousand protesters in Brussels alone, gathering on street corners, surrounding the Colonial Embassy, the Parliament. By the morning news, they expected that number to triple. Keawe's speech had been playing non-stop since he'd made it.

'I'll call for a meal and a car,' Quatre said finally. 'You'll have just enough time to shower, if you hurry. There's a bloc in the Temporary Quarters. I'll show you.'

He took the opportunity while it was available. Quatre stood to lead him, a short descent by the mirror-walled lift to the first basement barracks where visiting dignitaries could house in spartan comfort. It was empty now, Command disbursed back to wherever they went during a recess, but in a few hours it would be full to the brim as Preventers gathered its strength.

'Soap, towels,' Quatre pointed out. 'It helps to jiggle the knob for hot water, I find.'

'Quatre.' Wufei toed off his shoes and stockings under a wooden bench facing a row of uncurtained stalls. He shucked his necktie and coat next. 'They won't send Duo back, not in the midst of this.'

'I don't know,' Quatre admitted. 'I wouldn't think we-- could spare the manpower for an escort. Or the shuttle.'

It was one worry allayed. 'Thank you,' he said. 'For-- I'll be up shortly.'

Quatre nodded, and left him. Wufei undressed quickly and stepped beneath the spray, jiggling impatiently at the knob until the promised hot water flowed. He washed briskly, though he took the time to shave. He did feel better for the indulgence, warmer at least; thawed, at least temporarily.

He had never commanded such a large operation. He would be, as Une had described it, a Regional Coordinator, the ultimate decision-maker for the forces stationed in Space, and ultimately responsible to the Command Council for any coordination he required with Earth-stationed troops. They had been caught flat-footed by the last Sphere-wide thread-- Duo Maxwell. Now, thanks to that same man, they were prepared, ready, and deployed. Keawe had won something by that press conference, by calling out the people in a politically shady and deliberately unlawful mass action that might well provoke a military crackdown on citizens who thought they were expressing legitimate civilian protest. It had manifest potential to end in ugliness. Wufei was not altogether confident Preventers-- he-- could avoid the very anarchy he had warned the Council of.

A sleepy-eyed cook delivered a wrapped bundle of sandwiches and fruit juice just as the car arrived. Quatre was with him for this, too. 'I'll take the car to the airport after you're off,' he said. 'They'll need a face they recognise in the Mid-East Sector to keep them from knocking heads.'

The Winner family, stepping forward one more time to mediate, just as Keawe had told. History rolled on, not as accidental nor as neatly fated as it seemed.

'If there's real fighting--' Wufei hesitated. 'We know there is still an active Resistance. L2's cartels might take this as a signal-- we never did plumb exactly what weapons they had available.'

'Omar will be headed your way with two MS carriers. Silent until we know we need them.'

'I hope we don't.'

'Still. And-- Barge is operational.'

'What?' he said sharply. 'I thought it was destroyed.'

'Considerably. It's only partially rebuilt-- and the beam canon is well and truly done for, that I swear on my life. But it can launch armaments, and-- if we need it--'

He was ambivalent to that revelation. When Space Fortress Barge had been in the hands of OZ, he had considered it an evil to be destroyed-- a weapon so overpoweringly deadly that it was an affront to nature, an abomination. But that had been when Barge was equipped with the most powerful beam cannon ever constructed, strong enough to vaporise a colony. Without the cannon-- it really was little more than a fortress, a place that could be defended, that could, yes, launch a mobile unit...

'You swear it,' he repeated slowly.

'Yes,' Quatre answered promptly. 'I do.'

'And they would tell you the truth? Une would tell you?'

Quatre stared back at him from the seat opposite his as the limo rocked uphill.

'There won't be war,' Quatre said finally. 'I swear that on my life. There won't be another war, not as long as I can prevent it.'

Not an answer. But Wufei understood exactly.


	13. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The park was in chaos. The rattle of AK-47s was a cracking tattoo punctuated by the screams of men and women fleeing the shooters. The bodies of the dead and wounded lay where they had fallen. A group huddled bloodily, none moving, showed where the fire had begun, right at the edge of the zone, violating the thin barrier of peace between the colony and its underworld._   
> 

'The one to watch is going to be Prince George's satellite,' Cloudwalker predicted. 'It's Keawe's home. His people. We've already got a record turnout, and there's a protest every other day on L2.'

Wufei nodded his agreement, turning his eyes to the tabletop map spread beneath the elbows of his Preventers. 'Word on L3 yet?' he asked.

'We're in contact,' Lynn Adams said, not optimistically. 'It's getting ugly.'

All this, and they were still eighteen hours before Parliament opened for session. Twenty-two from the vote. They'd been very quiet in marshaling their forces, and on Wufei's orders there were already riot response units threading the streets to place and man road blocks in the expected hot spots. Keawe had wanted a weekend to get people mobilised, but it gave Preventers the same advantage. So far they had avoided unnecessary mess, but there were more than a hundred under arrest already on the main L2 torus alone. Television broadcasts were nothing but a continuing stream of coverage that largely served to incite, not inform.

Maquinna caught his eyes, and said, 'For what it may be worth, we're getting rumblings from the gangs Maxwell identified.'

That was worth some sharp consideration. 'Arming, or just moving?'

'Arming. Small skirmishes at territorial borders, so far. No civilian targets, although a drive-by shooting in St Mary's injured a girl and her niece. They violated a green zone. Accidentally or otherwise.'

Violating the green zones. On that street, no less, where so many young people had already died. That girl might even be the same that he and Keawe had spoken to, the first day they'd gone out together to investigate the murdered gangsters. He couldn't remember her name; just her face, thin and pinched. Angry.

'Hospitals are on full alert,' Ortega offered diffidently. 'There's no real capacity for any outreach, but we've directed some commercial drivers to serve as emergency transport.'

Everyone so quietly competent. It soothed his rough nerves, after the witless encounter he'd had with the Council a day ago. These were the true Preventers, people invested in maintaining the peace.

'Good,' he responded, inclining his head to the innovative plan. 'Let's hope we don't need them. If the gangs are starting to make noise...'

The two who had experience of Duo were the quickest to catch on. The pair from L3 and the web-cast images of L1, L4, and L5's commanders were more confused, waiting on him to finish his thought.

His thought was that it would have been a good time to have Duo with them. Duo put all the pieces together without effort, and hadn't been wrong yet. Wufei was far less sure.

The gangs might move on their own, blooded by the recent events, but it wouldn't be wise to discount the cartels, who had been supplying money and weapons. If the cartels chose this moment to push, there would undoubtedly be a high body count. Preventers would be stretched thin. Crowds were congregating where Keawe had wanted them to-- outside official buildings, uptown, marching some places and merely swarming others. Wufei had no choice but to concentrate his units there, but it left a wide swath of the colony unobserved at a dangerous time. Keawe had been a clever son of a bitch. Worse, they absolutely couldn't rely on the local police, who had already been bought and had responded only half-heartedly to mandatory emergency measures.

And beyond the cartels... they couldn't discount Keawe's foreign agents, the Earther infiltrators who might be waiting for just such a signal as this.

In the bad moments, he doubted even Barge and a fleet of mobile suits would be enough.

But it was what they had, though only Wufei and Preventers in this room knew it, and it had been committed in the most security-conscious hand-signals and code, for fear of bugs planted even in the safety of Preventers Plaza. Wufei was not yet willing to believe he had to question the integrity of these Preventers.

'Maquinna,' Wufei decided. 'Man HQ. Lewis, Munro, shuttles are ready for you. I'll be joining one of the rovers here. I'll likely be downtown. We need to at least be ready if the usual criminals make a move.'

Maquinna's office emptied with a certain alacrity. It was still the early hours-- the tense period of waiting had begun. It was real, they were in place, and any imagined pattern of events beyond that reality disintegrated in the face of the true possibility of chaos.

Maquinna was the last to go, stretching his bulk out of a chair with a creak. 'Still,' he said. 'I'll be hoping for the bill to just effing pass.'

Wufei snorted his own weary amusement. 'Oh, yes,' he agreed. 'So will I be.'

'Would have been nice to be able to believe in him. Keawe.'

Duo had said the same thing. L2 was ready for a genuine hero. Leader. Not yet.

'Well.' With a lift of his broad shoulders, Cloudwalker shook it off. 'I've survived a dose of cynicism before. Take Ortega with you. You might run into that kind of trouble on that side of the colony. A medic is never a bad asset.'

Wufei's back protested as he turned for his coat. He'd been in transit for hours and on his feet hours more, and even the slightly lighter gravity of a colony couldn't save aching muscles. Perhaps, he allowed, it might be wiser to ask Ortega for a mild pain reliever, to save his energy for when he would truly need it. He shrugged into his jacket, tugging his ponytail out over the collar, taking these last quiet moments in quiet reflection.

He nodded to the window, then, to the crowd visible in the yard below. 'Which group is that?' he asked. 'For Section VI?'

'No, actually. They're pacifists.'

'Pacifists.' He was quite surprised. The Pacifist movement had faded in popularity and influence as lasting peace made them largely irrelevant. They turned up regularly enough to make a fuss about local enforcement issues, but even Preventers had escaped their ire, lately. But-- 'I suppose I can see why they're here,' he admitted.

'Mm.' Cloudwalker eyed him sideways. 'Can we mutually agree that it would be expedient not to give them an ugly incident to feed on?'

'You think I'm that itchy for a public stand-off?'

'I think you'll be tempted before the vote settles, and you damn well will be if it goes wrong. I'm saying, take a deep breath before you make any big decisions.'

Wufei frowned crossly. 'Keep your humour to yourself.'

'It's only funny if you don't actually fly off the handle.' Maquinna left on that note, the door open behind him, waiting for Wufei to follow.

 

They'd been right about the gangs, at least.

St Mary's was never even on the radar. He was called to Fracsun Sector by reports of running gunfire. Though colonies didn't live in fear of penetrating bullets as spaceships and shuttles had to, it wasn't a particularly good idea. Wufei and his team of seven made the journey in an unmarked van, a necessarily slow path through the detours created by Preventers blockades and the unruly hordes who flocked to them like moths to a lit candle flame. But past the city's boundaries they were concerned less with traffic and more with that promised chaos that ran, despite their precautions, unchecked.

It at least was turned inward. Bodies were left where they fell, singly or in clumps, sometimes in the street itself, as if it were really a war zone. Wufei kept a grim count of the number they pass, adding it to Keawe's tally of wrongs. Did Keawe even care about the human cost of his revolution?

At last they found themselves in the middle of a gun battle-- or it found them. Bullets raked the right side of the van, repelled by its shielding. Wufei called the driver to a halt; he and his agents armed quickly, settling kevlar vests over their uniforms and donning helmets emblazoned with the Preventers octagon logo. The van rode up a kerb and perched askant. 'Go,' Wufei said, and Ortega hit the release on the back door. They poured out in a defencive spearhead, the back fanning out wide to cover Wufei in the lead.

Almost immediately it was clear they considerably outclassed their attackers. White gang members scattered at their sudden appearance, and Wufei sent four of his agents after them with a flick of his hand. He dipped to the pavement to touch a finger to the carotid artery of a young woman sprawled bloodily. She was alive. At his motion, Ortega put up his weapon and broke ranks to tend her. The three bodies near the girl, all apparently taken by surprise, were dead.

Suzi Chin caught his attention, alertly guarding the missing four, who broadcast their locations over the comm. 'I don't think these ones are gangs,' she said.

Wufei glanced at the wounded girl again. Ortega prepared a pressure bandage for her, urging her to help him. The placement of the shot seemed promising-- her right shoulder, painful but lucky. It had ruined her white polo, though. White shirt. Khaki skirt, pleated, and plain shoes, modestly braided hair. And not a purse at her side, as he had thought, but a little carry case, with an embroidered emblem on the flap.

Schoolchild, his mind identified, and, rather late, he applied what Duo had taught him, searching her prone form for any signs of gang affiliation. He saw none.

He lifted his wrist to his mouth, to report on his comm, broadcasting to all Preventers channels. 'Scarab,' he identified himself. 'They're targeting civilians. We have a bigger problem than we knew. All unit leaders, attention.'

It took only a moment. A flow of names that lasted almost thirty seconds, as they reported in to hear him.

'We need to abandon uptown,' he said. 'This is a bigger concern. Take locations from Lieutenant Cloudwalker.'

 _'Sir,'_ one answered, over the din of acknowledgments. _'Sir, I've got something starting here by the Parliament. I'm getting ready to gas the protesters.'_

 _'I'm facing that too,'_ another agreed. _'Agent Bray. I'm stationed at--'_ He was cut off, going far-away voiced as he yelled orders to his unit. Wufei heard him say 'fire now'.

'Check in, L1,' Wufei demanded.

_'Sir, reporting unanticipated--'_

_'I've got looting starting. I've opened tear gas at the university, but they're stirred up here.'_

_'There was some kind of signal,'_ a third said. _'All the sudden everyone's beserk. Maintain the line! Don't let them past that barrier!'_

'L3,' Wufei went on, relentlessly trying to get a full picture. 'L3, report.' Silence was the only answer. 'Munro, report.'

He finally got a connection, though Munro might not even be back to her station on L3 yet. _'I'm getting word of widespread activity,'_ she told him, at some delay. _'I've authorised use of rubber bullets.'_

'L4.'

 _'Same, Agent Scarab,'_ came back the answer, and he got the same from L5 as well. Wufei switched his frequency to that of the colony coordinators alone, and said, 'We have groups on L2 targeting civilians. Make me aware of any similar situations on your colonies and satellites.'

 _'Sir?'_ It was Munro again. _'We have any confirmation on that?'_

'No,' Wufei admitted bluntly. 'But we're not waiting for it, either. Maquinna, are you online? What can you tell me?'

It took a moment, but he got the affirmative. _'I have reports from PG, Adellina, and Peterstown,'_ Cloudwalker told him. _'Neighbourhood violence, spreading fast. Hospitals are getting calls. They didn't realise at first it was related.'_

It couldn't have been planned. Even Keawe wouldn't stoop to this. But someone behind him might have tipped it off.

And if they'd authorised the random murder of citizens, what was stopping them from going a step further? Those people wanted war. A war that could be blameless might be a windfall they couldn't pass up.

He switched frequencies again. 'Barge,' he said, ignoring Suzi's sharp inhale. 'Barge, come in.'

Slightly fuzzy, that response from dark Space, but a human voice, a Preventer who occupied that cold fortress. _'Aye, sir.'_

'Deploy the mobile units,' Wufei instructed. 'Be aware we are anticipating civilian casualties. We cannot afford to be distracted with property damage-- our only goal is to protect the people.'

'Mobile suits?' Ortega demanded. 'On the colonies?'

'Yes.' Wufei's four were back, with a cache of confiscated guns, and six prisoners, scornful, unfazed gangsters who sneered to see him. Wufei let his men bring them to him, raw-boned teenagers, who swaggered even now. One smirked to see the bodies.

He was the one Wufei addressed. 'Who ordered you to move now?'

The boy made an obscene gesture. 'Man, I don't take orders.'

'You take mine now,' Wufei corrected. 'Give me a name.'

'Or else?' the boy chortled to his fellows. 'Screw you, Chink. We don't need no help from Preventers.'

No time and no gain to be had-- if the boy knew anything at all. Wufei motioned Suzi to him. 'Cuff them to that electric pole. All of them together-- backs to the streets. We'll deal with them later, if they survive.'

'Survive?' another one of the gang repeated. There was, there at least, a moment of trepidation on a young face. Fear of Preventers, or whomever had ordered them into battle with the innocent, Wufei didn't know, and didn't care.

'I imagine your neighbours will find you before we do,' he said. 'Persuade them not to take advantage of your vulnerability. They might listen better than you did. You may have to speak very loudly to be heard over their dead children.'

Ortega helped the wounded girl to her feet. 'We can drop her off at hospital as we pass it. I assume we're headed back to HQ?'

'Eight Preventers aren't going to turn the tide in one sector, much less the entire colony.' Wufei gazed reluctantly at the bodies of the other schoolchildren. They would be missed soon. Their parents would come looking for them. It was worse than irresponsible to just leave them laying dead, to be found in such a state by their loved ones. But he couldn't split his team in hostile territory, and they couldn't truly make a difference here. 'Back to HQ,' he echoed. 'Load up.'

He felt a buzz at his temple, an urgency alert from his comm. He brought his wrist back to his mouth. 'You're on,' he said.

_'Agent Tambor, sir. We've got maybe a thousand who just broke the barriers. They're heading up Ogwen Boulevard. They're breaking in to buildings, they're-- shit-- we're authorised to use the rubber bullets, sir, but it's gonna start a-- shit--'_

Ogwen Boulevard. He knew that street. He wasn't sure--

He felt cold, suddenly. Tom's restaurant was on that street. And her home.

And he could not afford a personal favour. She would be safe if she stayed inside. Wouldn't she? Not if the rioters were breaking into buildings. Would she try to protect that investment, her restaurant, her livelihood? She wouldn't, couldn't leave it. He knew that. She'd told him as much-- I can't afford to start over again.

Duo would have tried to save her.

If he couldn't afford a personal favour, no more could he afford a personal distraction. He took that deep breath Cloudwalker had recommended, and broke another few regulations. 'Agent Tambor, divert a few agents to pick up any persons who may be in the businesses on that street. There's likely to be a dozen or two trying to defend the area from looters. Get anyone you find back to Preventers Plaza.'

_'We'll do it, sir.'_

'Thank you.' Another breath, fortification against the tightness in his chest. 'Let's go,' he told his unit. 'We'll drop off the girl and head for the shuttleport. I want to meet the mobile units when they arrive.'

 

**

 

'Deploy two suits per quad per sector,' Wufei said. 'It spreads us thin, but the presence of mobile suits should either deter the fighting, or attract it to centralised points.'

'And if it does attract it?' Omar Heron asked. The tall, thin Filipino was sweating in the heated docking bay, though Wufei had politely given Omar the seat nearest the fan. It was a ripe room, actually, all of them having been active for several hours without rest. But they had Barge's mobile suits. They had a chance.

'We don't have any call to be firing at citizens,' Diana Hamilton, his second, added. 'I'd go so far as to say it's forbidden by our charter.'

'They're not citizens,' Cloudwalker answered flatly. 'In fact, they're more likely to use citizens as human shields. Which only emphasises the point that we can't risk firing on them.'

'I don't disagree with any of you,' Wufei said. He turned the map of L2 to orient their current position toward himself, thinking again, for the thousandth time, that he was the man responsible for bringing mobile suits back onto the colonies, two decades after fighting a war to prevent them ever being there again. It left a frozen core in his chest.

The tinny voice of a technician reporting that docking procedures were completed for the final unit was interrupted by the beep of an urgent message. Omar flicked 'receive', and read the message to the group. 'L1 and L3 are now receiving their own units,' he reported. 'L4 and L5 are on course, ETA thirty-four minutes.'

Damn, but he wanted Duo. He would even have settled for the Keawe he'd thought he'd had on his side, one who knew the colony and wanted to protect its people.

'We need options, people,' he said.

'Sir.' It was Ortega, who had sat in, Wufei thought, a growing depression since they'd found the bodies of the murdered schoolchildren. He had not allowed Ortega to split from his team to take the survivor past the A&E doors. Ortega had accepted it without argument, but Wufei knew where his mind was. It promised to be a dirty engagement. They would all be in Ortega's position, by the close of the vote, but Wufei kept him near now the better to monitor him. The first to break was always a security concern.

'You have an idea?' Wufei asked. 'I'll take anything.'

'A public call to defend the green zones,' Ortega said. He stood straight at the attention of his superiors, hands clasped professionally behind his back. 'Get people to evacuate into no-fire zones and guard them.'

'That could invite a bloodbath,' Hamilton objected. 'There's no such thing as a no-fire zone in war.'

'Not on L2.' That was Cloudwalker, grudgingly agreeing. 'The green zones go back generations, all through the Federation. I think that would be respected.'

'Even if they're deliberately targeting civilians?' Wufei pressed.

'Do we know it's deliberate? I mean do we know it's not just young guns getting over-exited from a little freedom? The cartels don't have a problem with taking out entire families to make an example, but wholesale massacre isn't the usual style. And frankly, if Maxwell was right--'

'He hasn't been wrong,' Ortega muttered.

Cloudwalker rolled over that in his scowling way. 'This may be spill-over from the gang-on-gang war that's been building. Phoebus sector might have been the first engagement-- a test. Now it's on.'

It made frightening sense. And suggested another bloodbath that would be happening, if more targeted-- the cartels would be moving against each other, if their gang lackeys were too. Wufei revised his casualty figure upward with a sinking stomach.

'We'll try the green zones,' he decided. 'Omar, broadcast the safe-call. Go up and down the streets with it. I want the populace out of fire by 2100.' It gave them less than five hours, but every delay could be worth lives. Omar inclined his head in agreement. He donned his helmet, sealing the vacuum locks. Wufei raised a hand in good-bye, and Omar left without a single word more, Hamilton on his heels.

'It's going to be public,' Cloudwalker warned then. 'There's news crews on the ground. Most of them are up-town, but it will get out when they see mobile suits.'

'Can't be helped.' Wufei composed a brief memo describing the plan and forwarded it to all section leaders.

'I'm asking if we need Council approval.'

Wufei glanced up. There was more to that than a local chief chafing at Wufei's outsider authority. And Wufei sat in a dock full of Preventers who all listened avidly.

If it made it to the news that there was real violence on L2, not just the protesters coming up against an unexpectedly harsh Preventers response, it could put Keawe on the hot seat sooner than the Council had planned. It could tumble him from that newly achieved prominence, if enough innocents died in apparent response to his call to swarm the streets for Section VI. And that would obviate Wufei's entire mission to expose him-- invalidate the effort and sacrifice of getting the implant into his hands before they had the chance to use it to bring down everyone behind Keawe.

'Can it be avoided?' he asked at last.

Cloudwalker shook his head. 'I don't see how.'

'Nor I.' He released a deep breath. 'Our first concern has to be the people. We'll... worry about the rest later.'

'Understood,' Cloudwalker replied. He went for the far door, the one that led not back to the space docks but into the colony.

'Agent.' Ortega again, passing him a bottled water. 'You should keep hydrated.'

He wasn't the least thirsty, at least until water touched his lips. Suddenly parched, he drained most of the bottle in large gulps, and sipped the rest away. 'Thank you,' he rasped.

'Yes, sir.' Ortega slipped the empty bottle into their supply pack. He didn't take one for himself. Wufei considered ordering it, and didn't.

'What made you think of the green zones?' he asked instead.

'The war, I guess,' Ortega replied quietly. 'The Colony War. Once, I think September of 195, OZ forced us all onto the campus up-town, with mobile dolls, held us there for hours while the Rebels attacked at the docks. I don't think it was for our safety, though. OZ always thought every colonist was a Rebel.' He ducked his head, with a small smile that faded quickly. 'Weren't half wrong.'

On L2? No, Wufei didn't doubt OZ had been very right to think that.

'If this works,' he told the other man, 'then you're getting a promotion, and I'm retiring.'

Ortega forced that small smile again. 'Then let's hope, sir.'

'Truly.' He tapped his log-out into the computer, and it shut down. 'Let's get back to headquarters. I want to monitor the deployment to the other colonies.'

 

Unbelievably, it seemed to be working.

It might have been the sole occasion in which mobile suits were greeted on a colony with relief, not rage. Within an hour of the first release of the amnesty announcement, Wufei received a dozen reports of floods of people hurrying to the green zones, escorted by the Preventers ground forces who had abandoned the protests uptown.

That, however, was going to be a steep cost, and Wufei knew it very well; even without the furious calls from Council members. Anedra Robeson left a particularly vituperative voicemail, wishing she could take back her vote authorising Preventer intervention in Space. Reporters and the news service, having lost their straw man when Preventers abruptly ceded crowd control to the local police, had swiftly refocussed demands for civil liberty to fear-mongering over civil lawlessness. This time, they were much more correct.

Wufei had to watch the news for these reports, and got an eyeful in Cloudwalker's office as they surveyed the coverage. There had been some damage to monuments, glass doors or windows broken, and, of course, looting, as the crowds began to forget why they'd come out. Reports showed frequent footage of colonials running the streets with stolen goods clutched to their chests. Amazingly, though, fire had been well-contained in the few instances of accidental break-out, and the one case of intentional arson, started by a gang in Romero Sector and swiftly consuming an entire block of tenement apartments, was at least finally under control. Wufei deployed a precious four suits to conduct fire drills and drop supplies.

But most promising of all, the green zones were going unmolested. There was still gunfire in dark alleys, rolling fire-fights and even exploding cars, but all safely confined behind the invisible line separating them from anarchy and butchery.

'Ortega really should get a promotion,' Wufei murmured.

Cloudwalker grunted. Wufei assumed it was agreement. 'Clever,' he dismissed it, and muted their televisions. 'We're still seven hours out from the vote. If this feels like hell, we're in for a hot week if it goes wrong.'

Yes. And it might then burn itself out-- the violence. The mob in the street would certainly tire by then. There might be no-one of significance left in the gangs by then to keep fighting.

'How are our guests doing?' he asked.

Cloudwalker burst into an actual grin, quite startling Wufei, who had never remotely imagined him capable. 'Ah,' the lieutenant said with relish, 'now that is a fine woman. They don't come like that anymore.'

Wufei felt heat rush to his face, and just stopped himself from the kind of angry, defencive retort that would absolutely confirm whatever rumours he'd already begun by having Tom Sawyer and her staff brought to Preventers Plaza. He'd already been informed that Tom had not taken kindly to polite requests to leave. She'd been dragged off bodily, but not without a few bruised shins and one bloody nose to her credit. Wufei had been flat-out avoiding her-- his prerogative as the commander, and a very handy one for a guilty man.

'We questioned her before,' Cloudwalker added, surprising him. 'After Maxwell blew everything to pot the first time. Girl had a set of lungs on her, and that was nothing compared to her tongue. She eviscerated two of my toughest agents. Publicly dressed them down like the roughest drill sergeant on the parade grounds. She's something else. Not a surprise she'd turn up again, mixed up in Maxwell's fresh mess.'

'She was very helpful,' Wufei replied stiffly, relieved that Cloudwalker had assumed it was entirely official, his decision to have her brought in. 'She won't thank me.'

'You might have saved her life. There was a lot of damage out that way.' Cloudwalker fell back into the brooding glare that more regularly lined his face. 'Hell of a thing, all this has been. Why they can't vote on this before the Wild Free-Horses and Burros Act is beyond me. Politicians.' The beep of his computer drew his attention. 'L4,' he told Wufei. He read with a frown. 'Though I find it hard to believe,' he said, 'they're claiming they've got control of the colony. And the satellites.'

Quatre would be glad. 'L4 is used to autocrats. But I'll take the good news.'

'One down.' Cloudwalker sighed heavily. 'If Ortega gets that promotion, you can wait in line. _I'm_ retiring first.'

Wufei checked his watch. The minute hand never seemed to move. He let his head rest against the wall behind him.

Another incoming message beep. A short silence; Wufei refused to peek. Cloudwalker would tell him if it needed his--

'We have a breech.' Wufei sat up. 'St Mary's,' Cloudwalker said. 'Some places are just lucky.'

'I'm going,' Wufei said promptly. 'Stay here and keep me in touch with anything coming in.'

'I thought you were planning on sitting still for a damn minute?'

Wufei shook his wrinkled coat without effect, and slid it on. 'That was before,' he said. 'I'll take Ortega. They may need medical aid.'

'I can move more mobile suits to that quad.'

'No-- not yet. Any change at this point is an invitation to--'

'Reporting casualties,' Cloudwalker read. 'In the green zone. No word yet whether it was targeted or just caught up in the rage.'

'On my way.' Wufei ducked into the hallway, striding to the conference room at the end of the corridor that had been designated an unofficial break-room. The Preventers who had remained at headquarters for coordination support took turns eating and resting, some in chairs, some on the floor propped up by corner walls. Ortega stood by the window, gazing down at the Pacifists who still crowded the lawn below, albeit somewhat listlessly. The protest had become something more like a sit-in as the hours dragged on. Ortega chewed a thumbnail that looked cut to the quick already. 

'Ortega,' Wufei called. 'With me. We have civilian wounded.'

Ortega's head whipped around. 'Yes sir,' he said fiercely. He grabbed his med kit and shouldered it crisply. 'Ready.'

 

**

 

'Get us as close as you can to drop off,' Wufei told the driver.

 _'We've taken out at least three shooters,'_ Lieutenant Rizzo reported from the mobile unit that had been assigned to the zone. _'We've got significant casualties, and a lot of panic on the ground. Requesting more MS backup.'_

'Hold on that as long as you can,' Wufei stalled him. The van rocked as they departed from asphalt onto grassy parkland. 'We're ETA two minutes. I want all mobile units in place where they are in case this isn't a random strike. But if you make a judgment you need the backup now, you're go for it.'

_'Yessir.'_

'We ready?' Wufei asked his team. 'Standard dispersal and suppression pattern. Kill shots are authorised. Let's not hesitate between taking life and saving it.'

Grim faces nodded in acknowledgment. The van was slowing in a wide turn. They were all hand-picked, his team, from the local Preventers corps, and they knew what others would have had to be told-- how to identify the gang bangers from the civilians, how to justify targeting teenagers. They knew the violence here. They knew what putting it down was going to ask of them.

Like the dead children of St Mary's Street. It would be their work, now, not the police or the cartels. That the ones who would die today were entirely guilty of terror and murder didn't change that they'd been caught up in a conflict that ultimately would destroy them as well as their victims.

'Helmet cameras on,' Wufei ordered. 'Let's get some forensic proof of what's happening here.' He did not add the thought that followed-- that proof might protect his team if Keawe ever tried to discredit Preventers. Surely it would come to that eventually, and he would not be caught flat-footed in underestimating the man again.

When the van rolled to a stop, Wufei led his team out.

The park was in chaos. The rattle of AK-47s was a cracking tattoo punctuated by the screams of men and women fleeing the shooters. The bodies of the dead and wounded lay where they had fallen. A group huddled bloodily, none moving, showed where the fire had begun, right at the edge of the zone, violating the thin barrier of peace between the colony and its underworld.

'Go,' Wufei said, and his team scattered wide behind him, their own M16 assault rifles loaded and ready as they ran low to the ground. Wufei himself charged straight ahead, dodging into a strand of stunted trees in the centre of the park.

He made it no further than three yards when he found a triad of young women hiding in the scant shelter of a flowering bush. One screamed shrilly when he appeared, but the other called him close. 'Wendy's been shot!' she implored him, stretching out a hand. 'Please!'

Wufei dropped to a knee by the third girl. Wendy's young face was pale, splattered with blood. 'Where were you hit?' Wufei asked, scanning her body and then twitching attentively back to the rest of the park. The gunfire echoed oddly off the buildings around them, but it was still far away.

'My leg,' Wendy whispered. 'My neighbour-- my neighbour Darrin-- they shot Darrin in the head. He was standing right next to me.'

Wufei checked the thin shirt one of the women had wrapped around her thigh. She was bleeding heavily, but it wasn't immediate enough to risk evacuation before they'd eliminated the gunmen. 'Prop it up,' he advised her, helping the coherent friend settle Wendy's leg in her lap. 'Reporting a level-two injury at fifteen feet from the street,' he told his comm, 'twelve-o-clock from--' He risked a backward twist, scanning for landmarks. 'From the Oriental Foods. Cloudwalker, can you prioritise medical evac as reports come in?'

 _'Already doing,'_ Maquinna's tinny voice answered. _'We have ambulance and civilian drivers diverted to you, waiting on the safe word.'_

'We have to take care of the gunmen,' Wufei told the women. 'You need to stay down and help her stay like this until help comes. Preventers will know where to find you when it's safe.'

'I know one of them,' the one who had called for him said. She cradled Wendy's head, bravely wiping away the tears in her own eyes. 'He goes to my school. He knew me. He looked right at me.'

They were attacking the population of their own quad. That was useful. 'Are they wearing colours?' he asked her.

'Some have masks on.' Wendy turned dilated, pained eyes to him. 'But they were laughing. I saw Bobby take his mask off. He killed my neighbour. He was laughing.'

'Stay right here and stay hidden,' Wufei reminded. 'It will be all right if you stay hidden and quiet.'

 _'I got him,'_ Suzi Chin reported breathlessly, as Wufei moved out from the trees. _'One more down, sir. But I've got a group of civies here, some elderly-- and I can see more, maybe a dozen--'_

 _'I've got two gunmen in range.'_ Ortega. _'Approaching with caution. One is masked, the other appears to be white or Hispanic, young--'_ Then the sharp retort of rifle fire, three times.

Wufei broke through the trees and a bend in the path. He could hear a crying child, but not see it. He diverted to search behind a small hillock of those flower bushes, and then threw himself to the ground at the zing of bullets. Wood chips and branches fell over him from just above where his head had been. He rolled onto his back, rifle high, and shot as soon as some instinctual part of his brain locked on a red-coated target. There was a surprised croak of air, and the man who'd shot at him crumpled, gun falling to the dirt.

'One down,' Wufei said flatly, though his heart pounded. 'What's the-- the situation? Mobile Command?'

 _'Two gunmen unaccounted for,'_ Rizzo answered. _'We are gathering civilians back together. Ambulances are arriving.'_

Wufei stopped long enough to collect the AK-47, slinging the strap over his shoulder. He didn't check the shooter for signs of life. He was still, dark irises wide to the solar panels overhead, his black stretch mask unmoving. Wherever the child had been, it was quiet now. Wufei couldn't find it.

 _'Wounded here,'_ Ortega told the comm. _'I have a group of four-- five-- we are being pursued. We're in the open and we need back-up now.'_

'Where are you?' Wufei asked. He fumbled his GPS from his belt, elbowing the AK out of the way. Ortega's green-glowing blip showed him not far from Wufei. 'Coming into position. Gunman ahead or behind you?'

 _'Behind. All of you get down, get down and stay low!'_ Wufei heard him fire again.

Behind Ortega's position put the gunman between them, but Wufei had no sooner crested the little hill than he saw the trouble. There was no cover between the Preventer who knelt like a shield before a terrified family and the last two gunmen who pinned them down from the safety of a covered phone booth.

They hadn't yet seen Wufei behind them. He went to a knee just like Ortega, but raised the muzzle of his rifle to the roof of the booth. His shot took out a chunk of plastic and glass, and diverted both of the gunmen to face his direction. Better, one stood. Wufei fired again, and so did Ortega. He wasn't sure whose shot landed, but the man slumped, leaving a streak of red on the booth's glass wall. The other gunman stayed down, spraying the hillside Wufei stood on. Dirt jumped up where bullets impacted, and Wufei jumped too, back from the edge of the range. He heard the chatter of a second round going toward Ortega's group.

And then he heard a sound that was unmistakable in all the universe. A mobile suit powering up a beam weapon.

The booth went up in a red-hot blaze. The expressionless head of a Leo appeared from the smoke, raising the second mechanical arm to expel a cloud of fire suppressant. The melted booth, only half its original size now, died in a dusty exhale.

 _'Clear,'_ Rizzo reported. _'We have no further reports of gunmen.'_

Wufei's throat was tight. There was no breeze on a colony. But he could smell the smoke, the burn, the peculiar electric stench of a beam canon. There was no human flesh left to smell.

'Who's piloting that suit?' he managed. 'Who fired that beam?'

 _'I did, sir.'_ Rizzo, icily calm. _'Agent, Ortega is down. You were in no position for a clear shot. Medical evac was dangerously delayed, endangering civilian lives. The canon was justified.'_

'You were not authorised.' He came cautiously to his feet. 'You said-- Ortega's down?'

The ground shivered as the Leo launched to hover. With it out of the way, Wufei saw. He left his hill at a run, sliding the last few feet and passing wide around the melted booth. Only two of Ortega's group were on their feet, gathered by an old grandfather who moaned at a shattered arm. Two others, women, lay together on the ground, lost in hysterical tears.

Wufei went to his knees by Ortega, but he already knew. A shell had taken half his jaw. Blood pumped in spurts, already slowing. 'No,' Wufei said uselessly, mindlessly. But it died in his throat anyway. He put both hands on Ortega's body, his still chest, the destroyed strap of his helmet. He pushed the helmet onto the grass, to touch sweaty dark hair. Ortega exhaled once, and was gone.

'Please,' a man behind him said. 'Please, you gotta help my dad. Mister, please!'

The comm came back to echo in his head. _'Are we go with medical evac?'_ Cloudwalker's voice asked.

Wufei swallowed dryly. 'We're go. Bring them in. I have another injury with me, level-- level three. Elderly man.'

_'I've got your position.'_

'Preventer down,' he said, though his tongue didn't want to expel it. 'Any other injuries?'

A chorus of quiet demurs came back through the comm. One who'd taken a bullet through the hand, a light flesh wound. One with a twisted knee.

'It's clear up here,' Wufei ordered them. 'Maintain position, except you two. Get out for treatment. Wait on my word to resume deployment.'

 _'Yes, sir,'_ they murmured.

'Cloudwalker.' His knees creaked, getting back to his feet. He crouched by the old man, feeling carefully at the impact point above the elbow. He unclipped the strap of the AK he'd taken, and used it to tourniquet the old man's wound, knotting it tightly. 'The other green zones in tact?' he asked the comm.

 _'Yes,'_ Cloudwalker said softly. _'No reports of further incursion. Or from any other colony.'_

He heard a siren approaching through the park. The ambulances, at last.

'Get the wounded to hospital,' he said. 'And retrieve any civilians who may have abandoned the green zones. Let's keep the area wrapped.'


	14. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Duo was giving him a chance to walk away, to call it an argument, to make an excuse-- one that might save his career. But what kind of man would he be to take that offer?_

He woke in a dark room when the scent of brewing tea hit his nose.

'Shh,' someone whispered, when he tried to shuck the thin sheet over his body. Warm fingers tucked it back into place, and the mattress depressed to one side as a shadow darker than the shadows sat there. 'Nothing's the matter, Wufei.'

He almost thought-- Duo. And then knew it wasn't.

'Tom,' he croaked.

'Me, all right.' She leant away-- for the dim light next to his cot. The crib sprang into hazy relief, and Wufei blinked away spots from his eyes. The floor mattress Cloudwalker had been occupying when Wufei had stumbled in here-- he wasn't sure how long ago-- was empty now except for a limp foam pillow. There was still no light behind the shuttered window. It might mean night-- it might mean nothing had happened that had inspired Cloudwalker to lift curfew. After the shooting in the park Wufei had ordered the electric facility to pull power from all of L2. Anyone with a generator-- currently, Preventers HQ and the hospitals-- was surviving the extreme measure. Everyone else was dealing with the dark. It didn't stop a flood of calls from jamming his phone, but he had four dozen dead who said that were more radical things than shutting down the power.

A certain fuzzy memory of the logic in that decision brought him upright with a gasp. 'The vote,' he said. 'Did I--'

'Slept right through it.' Tom's face was devoid of clues, though he searched intently for them. 'They were to wake me,' he said.

'It was tried. You threatened to shoot anyone who came through that door until your next shift.'

His face heated. He didn't remember doing it-- but it wouldn't be unknown. 'Did it...'

'Fifty-seven for,' she answered expressionlessly. 'Two hundred thirteen against. Fifteen abstained.'

Failed.

His stomach plummeted. The vote had failed. Keawe would have his war, then. There must already be chaos. Why hadn't they waked him?

'But,' Tom said then. 'The delegation from South Africa brought a roll-call vote right after Section VI went down. Nine hundred billion in emergency aid to the colonies, including tax relief and loan forgiveness. And that passed one hundred ninety-six to eighty-nine against.'

He was amazed. That was completely, incredibly unprecedented. And had been brought by a delegation that had the least possible stake in the colonies? A nation that had sold all interests in the Space leap centuries ago, or had never had them at all. People who had stepped forward to help-- for the sake of helping.

Tom nodded slow agreement, then shook her head instead with an unsteady laugh. 'I can hardly believe it,' she said. 'I don't think anyone can. Of course they left it so open, so it could pass, but it's going to take forever to sort out, but it's still-- they didn't cut us off. They made sure we'd be able to survive until someone revises Section VI to go to Parliament again.'

His tongue was so dry, his stomach so tightly clenched he had to forgo a few breaths before he could speak. 'I should relieve Cloudwalker,' he said. 'It's my responsibility.'

'He's doing fine. The protests have stopped. Or turned into celebrations, anyway. They turned on the big monitors in the Square downtown, and everyone's there watching the coverage. He's waiting on word to evacuate the green zones, but that can sit until you've drunk the tea and got at least an energy bar into you.'

The tea he managed. Food was harder, though he let her try him. He remembered what she'd said, about feeding people. The last time he'd been in a dark room with her.

'Your restaurant,' he said finally. 'It took some damage. The entire block.'

'I know,' she replied. 'I knew. But at least maybe now the city will help pay for it.' She collected the wrapper from the candy bar, folding it over her slim fingers. 'I'm sorry about-- your man who died. The doctor. He was a good man.'

He burned dully, remembering the stomach-turning effort of leaving a downed man on the field. They'd had to wait on a car to get the body out, all available ambulances taken by the wounded. He'd had to go before a car arrived. He supposed Ortega would be in the Preventers' morgue below, a little basement of a room where he would be joined by three other casualties. There were another ten lost between the other colonies. All dead in a civilian uprising, killed by the people they'd been trying to protect. They were likely to be vilified, before this was over.

'Wufei,' she said. 'There's something... I have to tell you something.'

'What.' He covered her hand with his. Her fingers were so delicate; his might have been, as a boy, a studious boy who didn't wrap them around hard plastic handles of guns. It didn't matter so much if her being here did confirm every rumour in the building. He was grateful.

Whatever she'd meant to say was lost. She lowered her eyes from his, clenching her hand in his until her knuckles became sharp points under his palm.

'You almost act as if you were afraid of me,' he observed.

Her chin came up with an almost audible snap. 'I'm not afraid of you or anyone, Chang!'

He grinned at getting a rise out of her, and stopped her from pulling away in disgust. 'That's the Tom I know,' he murmured, and leant after her to catch her lips with his. She nipped at him, and tugged at his ponytail before he put a firm stop to all mischief by rolling her under him. The cot's metal springs squeaked in protest as he lifted himself just enough to settle again between her legs. They were bare under her utilitarian cotton skirt, smooth and cool to his wandering touch. Her throat arched back for his open mouth. He pulled at the buttons of her little jumper, the strap of her camisole, and pressed his cheek to the curve of her breast, her quickening heartbeat.

'Yes?' he whispered.

Her sigh had the faintest groan of surrender. 'Leave the light on.'

It was inelegant and urgent, but more intense than the last time because of them. He bunched her skirt at her waist as she unzipped his flies, and with nothing more than that he pulled her roughly close and pushed deeply into her. She went rigid against him, but it wasn't pain. Instead she urged him closer, her taut thigh cradling his hip, her fist tight in the back of his shirt, then clenching on his buttock as if she could claw him deeper in. He caught her wrist and pressed it back to the edge of the mattress, mouthing the tender inside of her arm, her exposed breast, closing just the edge of his teeth on a pebbled nipple until she gasped, her insides clamping around him. Soon he had no concentration for anything but the slide of his body into hers, the frantic burn in his groin. He recalled himself just enough to choke off his cry as he climaxed. He fell still against her shivering body.

'Wufei.' Her fingers fell lightly to stroking his hair. 'I... have to ask you, I just-- What is this thing with us? Is it... I don't know.'

The polite rap at the crib door made them both jump. Wufei separated gingerly from her as fast as he could, and Tom swung her legs to the floor as she righted her clothing.

'Yes,' Wufei called, hoping the sudden frogginess of his voice would be attributed to sleep.

'Sir, you have a communique from Sector heads and a call from L1. Waiting in your office.'

'I'll be right there.' He lowered his voice, gazing at Tom as she found discarded sandals to lace. 'I need to go.'

'Go on.' Her smile was only a little forced. 'Although whenever you give the word, I want to head home and see what damage has been done myself.'

'Soon, I hope. I can send you with an escort.'

'Don't play favourites. You don't have the people for it.' She balled the candy wrapper for him. 'Go on.'

He bent to kiss her temple, closing his eyes to the soft flowered scent of her hair. 'I'll see you as soon as I can.'

 

**

 

Wufei suspected Cloudwalker had not been a frequent visitor to Earth.

Vertigo was obviously exerting a powerful influence on the man, and that Cloudwalker's significant height put him that much closer to all that open sky was not helping. Wufei had experienced something very similar when he'd been a boy landing planet-side the first time, even though he'd trained endlessly in simulators. He dug out a visored hat from his carry-on. 'It doesn't matter if you look stupid,' he pre-empted the complaint. 'Throwing up on a Council member will look worse.'

Cloudwalker settled the hat in place with no further ado, then. It did look a little ridiculous, especially with his mane of thick black hair bristling beneath the cap, but the hat and dark sunglasses did seem to provide a little relief.

'It gets easier,' Wufei said, not unsympathetically. 'We'll be inside soon.'

'You can see all the way up,' Cloudwalker muttered hoarsely.

'Try not to think about it.'

A pair of young aides met them at the steps. The stock that had gone through the still freshly minted Preventers Academy all had the same shining earnestness, Wufei observed idly. Perhaps it was a natural and welcome evolution from the sullen, paranoid glares of his generation, all of them veterans and all of them intrinsically suspicious of rooting too deep. But Preventers had grown beyond those days of cramming into rented space-- far beyond the remote origins when only a jacket with an armband had distinguished Preventer from kamikaze secret agent.

'Agent Scarab,' the girl greeted him, all personality subsumed to a mask of professionalism. 'Lieutenant Cloudwalker. Welcome to Brussels.'

'Thank you,' Wufei said, at a loss for anything more conversational. 'Are we not to proceed directly inside?'

'The Council has been delayed. We can escort you to a private room, if you'll follow us.'

'An escort is hardly necessary.'

'Sir, I--' She glanced to her partner for support in the face of his frown. 'Our orders are--'

'To escort us to a private room, no alternatives.' He clenched his jaw on the unkind things he wanted to say about Council commandments. 'We've been on a shuttle for hours and all but at war for days before that. If we can't go to the mess like regular soldiers, you had better find someone to order you to make me a sandwich.'

Cloudwalker snorted his amusement. 'They're just kids,' he said, as their aides-cum-watchdogs conferred in anxious whispers together. 'Lay off the reputation.'

'I'm hungry,' Wufei said shortly. 'And I won't be kept waiting in the hall while Une tries to shout sense into the Council.'

In the shade of the grand stonework arch overhead, Maquinna removed his glasses, squinting down thoughtfully at Wufei. If he reached any conclusions, though, he kept them to himself.

The girl approached them again, a little more locked down in the face of an assignment going bad. 'We can have food delivered,' she announced.

Wufei gave up. 'Fine. Let's just get inside.'

Their 'private room' was an unoccupied conference chamber, table large enough for six of Wufei and somewhat less of Cloudwalker, who propped his tree-trunk legs on a second chair and sprawled the length of the table. The silent young man in their escort stood guard at the door-- and then outside it, when Wufei levelled a long look at him. The girl left them to find a dinner menu. Wufei dropped his bag to a chair, and eased himself wearily into the seat beside it.

'What do you suppose the delay is?'

'Nap time,' Wufei said.

'Or deciding whether I keep my job.' Cloudwalker stared moodily at the wall. 'Or where I'll be demoted to. I hear MO-5 is a nice little backwater these days.'

'You won't be demoted,' Wufei said, surprised to hear the other man was worried about it. 'You've performed admirably under the circumstances. If anything, I would think you'd be promoted.'

Cloudwalker tossed Wufei's cap to the table. 'Once I believed you.'

Wufei was willing to be generous in the spirit of shared experiences. What they'd just gone through on L2 hadn't been easy on any colonial with a living memory of the Federation, but Cloudwalker, Wufei suspected, was of that special brand of L2 patriotism that bitterly resented any and all interference in colonial affairs. That he was part of the system that impeded the worst of that anarchic L2 freedom was an entirely different issue from admitting an army of mobile suits through the docks. Only on L2 had a beam weapon been fired. But the fault for that lay with Wufei. He had decided to bring them inside.

He said, 'You know I-- fought with Treize Khushrenada. At the Battle of Libra.'

Cloudwalker glanced up. 'Yeah,' he said. 'You killed him.'

'Not exactly. We spoke, before the end. He said-- things I didn't understand, then. He believed that a “properly conducted” war brought out the best in mankind. But he could be totally ruthless and amoral. He murdered the Federation Doves, assassinated Minister Dorian... who knows how many others. He even launched bioweapons against civilians. He said--'

'What.'

'That if war was brutal enough, evil enough, it might scare the people into peace. I think he planned to die all along. I think he planned to wipe out whole swaths of humanity, Earth and Space, and take out as many leaders who might take the aggressor role, too. Including himself. Between he and Merquise, wielding Libra against Earth, after all those years under the Federation, by then we were all so numb--'

'That there was almost no popular support for his daughter, a year later.'

Wufei nodded jerkily. 'They rejected a militant dictator. They rejected another war.'

'So what's this got to do with L2 today?'

'I think... we may not have done it right, or in the best way, but... we may have given them a reason to remember why they should avoid another war.'

Cloudwalker mused on that for a long time in silence. Wufei didn't wait for an answer. It was a cold comfort, anyway. But Duo had been right when he'd called them the people who could look beyond daily concerns to the great and unflinching forces that spun the universe. Someone had to. Whether he liked it or not, Cloudwalker had joined those ranks.

The opening door gently interrupted their mutual quiet. But it was not their youthful escort; it was Quatre. His old friend wore civilian clothes, only his badge at his lapel to identify him as Preventer. 'I hear we have two dinner orders in here,' he said.

Cloudwalker rose, though he substituted a nod for a salute. 'Good evening, sir.'

'Please sit, both of you. I know I plan to.' Quatre fell into a chair immediately, with a wholly sincere sigh of relief. 'This place is a madhouse. And now with all the children here I can't sneak about any more. They're all so terribly polite it makes my teeth hurt.'

'What happened to your wrist?' Wufei asked, gesturing to the thick brace now decorating Quatre's arm.

Unaccountably, Quatre turned a bright red. 'I was knocking a few heads together in Khartoum,' he mumbled. 'It-- got a bit more literal than it ought to have done.'

Wufei decided the image that conjured was rather satisfying. 'You should have swung with your shoulder.'

'I'll bear it in mind for the next time.' Though he was still blushing, Quatre grinned at him. Despite himself, Wufei found he could laugh.

'What's the Council up to?' Cloudwalker asked.

'Staring ever so intently at their collective navel. Now that it's calm again, they're ready to start pointing fingers. I stepped out when they started quibbling over the budget cuts last fiscal year.'

'I presume,' Wufei said, 'that the argument for a budget windfall has been sufficiently made.'

All traces of humour vanished from Quatre's face. For a moment, he looked like an old man, not a thirty-seven year old in the prime of life and career. 'Yes,' he said flatly. 'I believe our case has been made.'

Cloudwalker cleared his throat. 'What happens next?'

'We clean up.' Quatre tugged at the edge of his brace. 'We go back to work. We put new safeguards in place.' He flattened his hands to the table. 'Starting with a new Division of Colonial Affairs, to be considered a separate entity with full Divisional authority. It will report to a new Division Head, who will have a place on the Council, taking my place as Outpost Advisor.'

Wufei blinked at the news. 'Are you resigning.'

'No, but for now we'll just say I'm making room for new blood.' Quatre met his eyes. 'So-- do you accept?'

'Accept-- accept what?'

'The position. There'll be a formal offer later, complete with the usual bells and whistles. Salary increase. Residence here in Brussels four months of the year, moving costs provided. Staff of your choosing, though you'll be plenty bombarded with all sorts of promising young nephews and grandnieces who don't know a Gundam from a grocery.' Quatre waited on him, not patiently. His stare was almost rudely forthright. This was what they'd talked about-- but Wufei had honestly thought he'd be resting on the laurels of a Space command for at least a few years to come. He would be promoted well above his current station, well above the command he'd just come all this way to hand back with the crisis past. Promoted over plenty of people who had played the political game he'd refused to, all of whom would resent him, lay petty traps for him, pick at whatever authority he was given...

But he would have a voice on the Council. His might be the vote that would stop something idiotic and unacceptably dangerous-- like placing a neural implant in a prisoner's head to snare an unknown villain out of L2's garden of rebel flowers.

In his hesitation, Quatre turned to Cloudwalker. More formally, he said, 'Your peformance during this crisis has also been recognised, particularly your willingness to be pro-active in dealing with the unrest on L2 prior to the outbreak of the protests. Agent Chang's current position as Regional Coordinator will be vacant, as soon as he pulls it together to say yes. I'd like you to think about taking on that role. You'd be working directly with sector heads and local HQs and reporting to Wufei as Division head. You'll also have to wrangle with a new budget outline, when that comes through next summer, but I've seen what you did with a strapped cash flow on L2, and I'm not the only one impressed by it. I hope you'll accept.'

Cloudwalker was struck a little dumb, it seemed. His big hands hid in his lap, betraying his uncertainty. Then, with a noble effort at candour, he said, 'I don't know, sir. I think I'd have to be sure that whoever replaced me would do right by my colony. We don't take well to outsiders, and frankly I think bringing in a stranger at this point in time would be a disaster. Possibly a very bloody one.'

Quatre nodded thoughtfully. 'You may be right,' he said slowly. He pursed his lips, then let go a half-hearted breath. 'At least work with me to compile a list of potential promotions. You can decide then if you want the post, or not, based on who we can bring up to replace you.'

Cloudwalker was not an unambitious man. It had clearly pained him to pass on the offer. His relief at Quatre's compromise was unfeigned. 'Yes, sir,' he said crisply.

'Settled, then. Now let's find some damn food. I'm starved, and it's the Council's turn to wait on us.' He shoved to his feet. 'Going down the hall you can smell them cooking dinner. I've been famished for hours. After you, Lieutenant.'

'Quatre.' Wufei touched his arm, holding Quatre back a few paces as they trailed Cloudwalker into the hall. 'About Duo. They're still sending him back?'

Quatre rubbed his moustache, perhaps to hide the expression of his mouth. 'Yes,' he admitted finally. 'Majority opinion was that Duo hasn't fundamentally changed-- or not enough anyway to justify vacating his sentence.'

'Not even to move him to a secure compound on Earth?' Wufei argued.

'Can you say honestly that there _is_ a secure enough compound anywhere?' Quatre asked seriously. 'Seven of those Council members were in OZ. Ask them about Duo's talent for a handy escape.'

'And the month he spent deliberately not escaping me on L2?'

'By his own confession, Wufei, he thought about it.'

'And I've thought about quitting a thousand times in loving detail, this last few weeks, but I haven't done that either! He didn't do it. And his reward is nothing?' He restrained himself only because he could see in Quatre's face there was no hope. He straightened his shoulders, made himself walk sedately after Cloudwalker, who was making some show of ignoring them as he followed the map posted at each junction. When he could manage a level tone again, Wufei said, 'I would still like to accompany him when he returns to prison.'

Quatre stopped moving. Wufei, stomach seizing tight suddenly, faced him tensely. Quatre said, 'He thought you would ask. He requested you be denied, if you did.'

Shock turned immediately to anger. 'Why would he do that? What new game is this?'

'He was quite serious and I promised him I would honour his wishes,' Quatre returned levelly. 'He chose not to give me any reasons. Maybe you will.'

That brought him up short. Oh, this was most certainly a game, serious or otherwise; just like Duo to issue a warning and a threat in silence. Quatre didn't know that anything had happened between he and Duo. Duo was giving him a chance to walk away, to call it an argument, to make an excuse-- one that might save his career. But what kind of man would he be to take that offer?

'I would like you to break that promise,' Wufei said finally. 'Or really, to honour it properly. Duo's wishes and Duo's words don't always intersect. He's trying to spare me something I don't fear facing.'

Quatre wore his most evaluating look, every twitch of an eye adding up the signs only he could see, the slight frown deepening the lines at his mouth as he arrived at his conclusions. Then, bluntly, he said, 'What exactly is he sparing you?'

'Nothing that bears repeating,' Wufei said flatly. 'Everything on the record is in my report.'

'And off the record?'

'None of the Council's damn business, Quatre, and none of yours either. He got you to promise because he knew he could. It has nothing to do with anything else.'

Quatre's frown was deepening. He almost spoke, then didn't; he looked troubled. At last, he said, 'I have to ask this. Does he have some reason to be afraid of you?'

'Afraid?' Unworthy, and not a blow he would forget easily, not from Quatre. But it was indeed Quatre's responsibility to ask, his responsibility to Duo. And-- perhaps in a way Duo was afraid. Not of physical harm or blackmail or any of those unworthy things Quatre's loaded question suggested. Going back to his prison was frightening enough. Being delivered there by a man he had admitted he still had feelings for; it was worse. Perhaps even too frightening to face.

Then-- he would help Duo to face it.

'No,' he said. 'I give my word.'

Quatre nodded slowly, though his eyebrows stayed contracted, his palm smoothing thoughtfully over his tie. 'I have meant to get someone out to all the holding facilities in Space,' he said finally. 'Someone ranking enough and standing outside that chain of loyalties. It's a tight-knit world, and they're only nominally under Preventers' authority.' He eyed Wufei, the quietly watching Cloudwalker a few careful steps up the hall from them. 'You'd make the trip out with Duo first, and take the MO stations and the colonies on the inbound.'

That gave them such a little amount of time. He had hoped. He drew a deep breath. 'I'll need a ship and a briefing.'

'I'll get it for you.' Quatre smoothed his tie over his stomach. 'What will you do, Wufei? Really? You'll still have to leave him there.'

'But I have to do it the right way,' he said. 'I owe him that.'

They weren't long in the mess before Quatre was called away, promising to find them when the Council was ready. Wufei and Cloudwalker had a table to themselves, despite the growing crowd. Most were fresh from the protest detail in various hot-spots on Earth; the ones who had seen action regaled the ones who hadn't, and there were exclamations of jealousy from many of the youngest, the unblooded and still cock-sure. Elder Preventers, that first generation of recruits like Wufei and Maquinna, were rare, and kept to themselves. They were the ones who made a point of seeking Wufei's eyes for a solemn nod before politely ignoring him.

'Makes you want to retire,' Maquinna grunted. He watched in sour bemusement as the baby-faced agents at a table nearby re-enacted a skirmish for their open-mouthed friends. 'Were we ever that young?'

Half those agents hadn't even been alive during the war. Well, nearly, anyway. Children of the new century. 'We're dinosaurs,' he answered.

'I feel like one.' Maquinna tiredly cracked his neck. 'How do you stand full gravity? I feel like I'm caving in.'

'You get used to that, too.' He pushed his crumbling biscuit through the dregs of his stew. 'About Maxwell.'

Maquinna surprised him with a careless shrug of broad shoulders. 'You don't owe me an explanation. Anyway, I get it.'

Wufei couldn't quite bring himself to peek up. 'You do.'

'We use confidential informants on L2, sure. All the time.' Maquinna tossed a rib bone to his plate, licking his fingers of red sauce. 'Sometimes you get attached despite yourself. The system's not really set up to help them out, though. They serve their purpose and you gotta toss 'em back.'

'But this isn't just some small-time street criminal turning in his higher-ups to avoid a class-B misdemeanor.' Wufei hunched over his plate, trying not to heed that inner voice that said if he could just confess, convince one person, just one person, it would make all the difference to a guilty conscience. Why had Duo not told him?

'I know,' Maquinna agreed. 'He's a better stock than that kind of petty perp. That's what makes him dangerous. Too dangerous to let go, even when he's gone the lengths for us. And you're a good enough agent to know that.'

Wufei forced a shallow nod. Maquinna was right. Quatre was right. But it didn't banish a broken promise-- or the dread that if he let Duo flee him now, there'd never be another chance to make their good-byes.

Their two guards approached them, waiting at parade attention until Maquinna turned an evil eye on them. 'What,' he said.

'The Council is ready for you, sirs,' the girl said. 'If you'll follow me.'

'Finally.' Maquinna rose with creaking knees and a deep grimace. 'Let's get this over with so I can go to bed.'

'You're getting old,' Wufei told him. 'It's not even nine on L2.'

Maquinna scowled at him.

**

 

'You just can't take a hint!'

That was more than a little acidic. Duo was pale, and after a burst of agitated gesticulation had gone still under iron control, fists clenched rigidly at his sides. Wufei, leaning against the locked window overlooking the hospital grounds, carefully kept his place there, to give Duo as much sense of freedom as possible. The little hospital suite didn't seem large enough for this outburst of unexpected vitriol.

'Do I take the hint or do I do what I know to be right?' he asked rhetorically. 'Sit down. The therapist said to rest until dinner.'

'The therapist can suck my dick,' Duo retorted nastily. 'So can Quatre. He promised me.'

'And because he's a good friend he--'

'Lied to me!'

'Listened to me,' Wufei finished evenly. 'I told you to sit down. If I have to come make you, I will.'

Duo sat. For a moment. Then he was up again, pacing from door to bath to bed, crutchless, also against medical orders. He limped heavily still; it worried Wufei. But he didn't follow through on his threat. In this mood, Duo might actually fight him, and he couldn't be sure he wouldn't accidentally hurt Duo.

'Why does it upset you so much?' he asked finally.

'Because there's no reason for you to do this. Because you're not respecting what I want, and I thought I'd earned that from you. Because you're--' Duo inhaled sharply, and didn't finish.

'What?'

'Different again.'

Was he? 'I'm the same as I always was,' he began, slow to take up this hint, too.

'No, you're not. You're like how you were before, you're already starting to forget.'

'Forget what? You?'

'Everything!' Duo's frustration was reaching a tipping point, and his agitated turns about the room began to look trapped. 'Everything we just did on L2, everything you saw. Look at you, you're bratton--'

'Duo.'

'Don't tell me to hire down! I'm not the item who just doesn't evolve anything--'

'Duo, calm down or I will call the nurse. I can't understand you, right now. You're mistaking your words.'

Duo faced the far wall, back to Wufei. Wufei gave him a minute, something he ought to have done right away. He waited, silently, until Duo did what he couldn't do in the middle of continued provocation, and got ahold of himself. When he was sure it wouldn't blow up again, Wufei asked softly, 'Why do you think I've changed? I'm the same man you saw barely three weeks ago.'

'No, you're not.' Duo released his fists only long enough to grab his elbows tight, a grey angular ghost against the white wall. 'Three weeks ago you still listened. Three weeks ago you would've understood why this is pointless. Three weeks ago you were already walking away.'

He listened well enough still to hear a deeper disturbance in that than just upset at being outvoted. 'Why is it pointless? Tell me.'

Duo slashed the air with a negative fling of his hand. 'This is how you were when we started this. That first night on L2, when you wouldn't fucking hear me on anything. I'm tired of trying to tell you.'

'I think I've done very well figuring out what you wanted me to hear.' It was Wufei's turn to wrestle with his temper. He felt hot under the collar. 'I did everything you wanted me to on L2 and I dealt with Keawe's worst when you were gone.'

'Keawe's worst?' Duo laughed jaggedly. 'Good for you, then.'

Wufei ground his teeth. 'I'm trying to do right by you.'

'I don't need a Least to do right by me, I need my friend Chang Wufei to _understand_!'

He was never quite sure why he said next what he did. He didn't have the talent for self-analysis. Perhaps he just wanted to lash out, take a cruel quick cut at Duo to get his own back. Perhaps it was even an instinct toward the right words, the right gut-level communication that Duo was trying to claw out of him. That was, after all, exactly how it worked on L2-- brutal and honest.

He said, 'We lost Ortega.'

Duo froze. Wufei began to regret saying it. Then thought that it was better for Duo to have known; then that it hadn't been Duo's doing, anyway. There were random accidents of fate. There was no point to make with his death.

'I'm sorry,' Duo said. 'Did he...'

'I hope not.' Wufei shifted his weight. 'He did well to the end, though.' The chill of the window pane between his shoulder blades spread to his head, when he leant back against it. The ceiling was run through with coffee-coloured cracks. Wufei stared dully at them, drained now. 'I'm sorry for you, too.'

'Anyone tell his ex?' He knew by the change in the sound that Duo had finally turned back to him.

'No family listed.' Wufei risked a downward glance. Duo sat perpendicular on the bed, the bad knee propped up under the quilt, under those tight fists. 'An ex?'

'I don't remember the name. Sandy someone. They were broke up, he said, but-- I don't know. He should know. Maybe you could pass on his uniform.'

And a medal of valour, posthumously granted, waiting for claim with a box of ashes. 'I'll track the man down,' Wufei said. 'Sandy.'

'Be good to know,' Duo said, tentative. 'To not just satellite.'

'Satellite,' Wufei repeated.

'What?'

Satellite... colony? Or star. 'Wonder,' Wufei guessed. 'To not just wonder, forever.' He left the window then, to kneel at the bed. He took Duo's unwilling hands. 'Do you want me to wonder, then? Why do you want me to just leave you behind?'

'It's not the same!'

'Isn't it?' He held tight, forcing Duo's fingers to open in his hold. 'Why are you asking me to abandon you?'

'I thought I'd finally taught you to walk with your eyes open.' Duo at last stopped resisting. Wufei brought his hands to his mouth, brushing his lips over Duo's knuckles. Duo's eyes closed at his touch. 'What do you really think you'll see there?'

He had no answer. There was no answer-- nothing to see there, nothing to do to help. Last stands were like that.

'You don't love me,' Duo said. 'Not like that. No--' When Wufei shook his head. 'You don't,' Duo repeated. 'You don't have to. There's no law. But you get that it wouldn't make a difference? You come with me now and there's always going to be an obligation. You'll spend the rest of your life thinking it's your job to get me out of there. Well, it isn't. And it isn't your job to not have a life of your own, or to not see what you could have with Tom or anyone else you choose, because you're so busy being obligated to someone you're never going to see again. I'm right on this. You hang up your life now and it's over. I know all about it, Wufei. And anyone who just did everything you did on L2 should know when to let go and trust.'

'No-one on L2 has ever let go of anything, much less trusted.'

'Exactly,' Duo said. 'Learn from it.'

In the end, all he could say was, 'Tell me you wouldn't do it for me.' And knew when Duo stared at him helplessly that the arguments were over.

 

**  
**

 

'Did you grow up speaking English?'

Wufei rubbed the soft thick hair that covered Duo's on head on his chest, twirling a long lock unravelled from the plait between his fingers. 'English, no,' he said. 'Not until I was thirteen, and then I was never allowed to use it in the home. There was a white man who came on colony, to teach us children.'

'Was he bald? Ugly? Fat?'

'Not even very old.' Duo's arm shifted over his belly; Wufei cupped his elbow gently. 'He was very kind. But very different.'

'Different how.'

'Open, I suppose. That made him different. He would talk out of turn. And he wanted us to visit him between classes, which of course we would never do.'

'Probably a perv,' Duo said.

'No, I don't think so. He just didn't understand why we were all so... reserved.'

'Neither do I,' Duo complained, but lightly enough. He pressed his cheek to Wufei's bare skin. 'I used to do anything I could think of to make you smile. Then I'd just do anything for any reaction at all, you bugger.''

He'd known. He'd thought, long ago then, it was just Duo's way, obnoxious, uncultured. But Duo always got what he wanted, anyway. Wufei wished he could remember what specific attack had occasioned his surrender. Duo was quite a warrior, when he wanted to be. He'd probably been an even better thief.

'You'll have to get up soon,' Duo murmured then.

He held his breath against a sigh of disappointment. 'Don't want to,' he confessed. Duo didn't move off him, confession enough, as well. 'Jaya will be roaming about.'

'Asking questions,' Duo translated. 'She's nosy.'

'She's just trying to do her job.'

'By brown-nosing you to death. Can I get you coffee, Captain Chang? Can I get those notes organised for you, Captain Chang? Can I sharpen your pencil, Captain Chang?' Duo imitated his assistant's breathy soprano flawlessly. 'She only wishes she were in your sleeping bag here.'

They had so far-- he thought-- managed to hide their relationship from the young agent who had taken assignment with him as if she were being offered the moon. 'She's not sexually attracted to me,' Wufei protested.

'No, but if a few games of dip-the-wonton could get her promoted, she'd do it.' Duo scraped his hair back from his face and sat up. Wufei traced fingertips down his cooling back, over the bumps of his spine, the ridges of his ribcage, the slow-healing scar left by the would-be assassin's bullet. So many scars, not all of them as raw, not all of them so easy to map. He let his hand fall to his cot. 'I'll go,' Duo said finally. 'You can sleep for a half-hour before she'll be up.'

'Drink your tea,' Wufei reminded him. 'You have to remember to drink it for it to work.'

'Tastes like bark,' Duo said. He looked over his shoulder, his lips moving in what might have been a smile. 'Bark and bird poo.' But he took the sachet off Wufei's luggage pile, slipping it into the pocket of his trousers as he tugged them on. He said nothing else as he opened the small hatch, and disappeared down the ladder from the sleeping cells to the common area below. The door shut slowly, silently after him.

Alone, Wufei closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep yet. They played it light, each of them, but the reality was that their time was low. They hadn't had much to begin.

Not quite three weeks-- nineteen days and a paltry sum of hours. Not enough. Too much, in a way. Things that had to be said could be put off. They'd filled nights whispering about nothings-- little memories, banal and without meaning. Now they had only thirty-six hours left. Not enough. Still too much.

He dressed as well as anyone could in the shuttle's cramped sleeping cells, by laying flat to pull on trousers, slipping arm-by-arm into his shirt. His hair had dried from last night's shower and felt coarse and staticky now in the cold shuttle air. It fought his elastic, and he felt lumps where it should have flattened to his skull. He left it anyway. They were none of them at their finest, and it didn't matter. He descended the ladder from his cell, the furthest climb, past Duo's empty and open, the cot artfully mussed though Duo had never slept in it, and Jaya's, still shut, the light off.

Duo stood, not quite floated, actually, in the light gravity of their fast-travel ship, warming coffee pouches in the thermal immersion circulator. Eggs in sealed bags floated beside the coffee, slowly congealing to custard consistency for their breakfast. Wufei fixed the collar of Duo's shirt to lay flat, not as accidental a manoeuvre as he made it seem. Duo's eyes flicked to him and away, as Wufei crossed the cramped cave for a bench by the fold-out table. He was just seated when Duo tossed him a coffee pouch. Wufei pierced it with a straw, tiredly grateful for the liquid warmth spreading through him.

'What are you supposed to do at these other prisons?' Duo asked idly.

Or not so, perhaps. No more a passing thought than the great red mass of Mars that filled their window port-side.

'Check under the mattresses,' Wufei answered around the straw.

Duo grinned briefly. 'You may wish you hadn't. It is mostly men out there.'

Disproportionately. And disproportionately white, European or American, white colonial. As had been both the military and the rebel organisations in which they'd risen, collectively, to the top. Of ethnic minorities, most had been dealt with planetside by their governments. Of the lower classes, Duo had the distinction of being very alone in representation. Quite a few titles had gone vacant on Earth in the aftermath of the wars, or devolved to studiously well-behaved relatives. The working man generally had too much to lose to rebel-- or died at the hands of his wealthy patrons, more often than not. Those who outlived their nobles faded quietly back into the scenery.

One day he might be leading Bren Keawe on this very route, to take his place in Duo's prison, in an asteroid wasteland, in history.

The thought brought him little satisfaction.

His musings were interrupted anyway by his assistant's arrival. She appeared fully dressed, not barefoot like Duo or unironed as Wufei. Her long hair was elaborately twisted and pinned, her makeup just visible as a brushstroke of rouge and a faintly mauve tint to her lips. Her bootheels clicked on the floor as she descended the ladder. She inclined her head to him, said nothing at all to Duo, and took the coffee he threw her without thanks.

Whatever she thought about a prisoner who had, whether the Council predicted it or not, been free to roam the ship, she didn't say. Wufei did not invite her opinion, and Duo was showing uncommon restraint in not needling her out of turn. Wufei thought Duo's uneasiness to be nerves. Maybe it was only that the time for play was past.

'Eggs,' Duo said, and passed a bag to each with a spoon. He turned off the circulator, settled in a corner with his meal, and to all appearances absorbed himself in silent contemplation of their window view.

And so they went about their day. Wufei had legitimate work. Quatre had supplied him with years' worth of cases, briefings, background research, classified documents he needed to know before he joined the Council. He hadn't yet told Duo about his coming appointment. He didn't think Duo would approve. He still wasn't sure he welcomed it. In fact, he dreaded it. It would drastically change his life. He would have to spend half his year at least in Brussels, and the rest was likely to be wasted on travel back and forth with Space. His comfortable niche in Chengde was as good as gone from his grasp. City living would exhaust him. Politics would exhaust him. The only favourable factor he could think of was that he could explode at will with the other Council members, no longer afraid of being fired for speaking his mind.

But worst of all he had to acknowledge that Duo was probably right about him. By taking the Council appointment, he was effectively throwing away a career he'd come to love in favour of a life he would despise, all chasing a goal he would probably never reach. Duo would be an old man when they let him out. If they let him out. Wufei would be lucky to be able to influence a vote-- to waste a vote that would might be better spent on some more urgent issue, some challenge that could better colonial lives.

But he couldn't think of a way out of it.

 

**

 

They had sex that night, for the first time since L2. Since boarding the ship they'd undressed together, lay naked together, but there had been no temptation, no flirtation, no need. He surprised Duo with an exploring caress in the dark, going no further than outer skin until Duo's permission came in a kiss. They had to be careful of the noise, with Jaya only yards away. Duo's mouth on him brought him to drowsy contentment; but when he returned it later, Duo lay with his face turned away, and when Wufei asked if he were all right, Duo only nodded.

 

**

 

'I always loved Space,' Duo said. 'Even more than living on a colony. I guess I always liked being reminded of my smallness. It made the petty crap come into perspective, you know? But more than that. I always thought it was so beautiful in Space. So full and so empty. So many wonders, when we're not cluttering it.'

Wufei followed Duo's gaze. Outside-- past that thick plate window that separated them from the vacuum and the cold-- they were beyond Mars now, and Jupiter's orbit was still far away. They had reached the outer edge of the asteroid belt. The floaters were themselves invisible in the blackness, so far from the Sun's light.

'I got stuck in a cellar when I was little,' Wufei answered. 'I was down there for hours in the dark. That's what it always reminds me of.'

Duo laughed, surprised. 'That sucks.'

'Captain Chang,' Jaya said, behind them. 'Shall I alert Holding Facility CLZ9-2 that we're within range?'

The smile faded from Duo's eyes. He squeezed the half-drunk pouch of his tea, and left it on the table.

'Gonna sleep for a bit,' he mumbled, and climbed the ladder. He went to his own cell, not Wufei's. Wufei craned his head to watch the door slide shut after Duo's feet.

'Captain?'

'Yes,' he said. 'Let them know our ETA.'


	15. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You need to write this on your forehead until you can think it in your sleep,' Duo breathed at him. 'I am never leaving here. I am never leaving here, Wufei, I will die here, and that's the way it should be.'_

They transferred from their shuttle to the asteroid's frozen surface by means of a reconstructed mining suit, just large enough for himself, Duo, and the prison's pilot. His assistant Jaya had to be ordered to remain on ship, a good thing overall. Wufei had come to appreciate that her incessant fluttering about him produced distinctly thorough results, but they were not a good match of personalities. More, he had never had need of an assistant, and found it difficult to accept that Jaya didn't find it degrading to be attached to him, in a position that guaranteed desk work for the rest of her very young career. He was grateful to leave her behind, however briefly. And he didn't want her where she could compulsively observe and record his every twitch. Not here.

He had never seen even a picture of CLZ9-2 until Quatre had supplied him with the file. Because it housed such uniquely threatening criminals, it functioned in absolute secrecy. Its location, its construction, even its staffing were all under top clearance classification. The public knew only that such a prison existed, somewhere, to house failed and intractable revolutionaries whose very lives would encourage rebellion anew-- as Duo's short jaunt to L2 had proved. The world had learnt that lesson well. Any potential leader of any proto-rebellion found their way to this isolate point in the Main Belt, now light years beyond the reach of any potential followers. In theory, only Preventers now had control of any vessels even capable of reaching the remote edges of Near Space. A century of war and shrivelling interest in exploration had decimated humankind's once full supply of long-range ships. The shuttle that had brought Duo away from and back to his prison was the only one maintained for a flight that difficult. Now it floated serenely in this radiation-heavy, empty blackness between Mars and Jupiter, their destination a crater-pocked hunk of nickel and iron and ice barely three kilometres around. The only sign of human occupation in this lightless place was a shadow of deeper darkness outlining the prison compound.

The mining lift landed at a small pad, and the pilot walked it to the protruding edge of the single airlock. They sealed hatch to hatch and waited in a thunderous hiss of vacuum flooding with breathable air. When the green light lit over the hatch, the pilot nodded for Wufei to exit first. Wufei shucked his safety harness and slid down the few awkward steps to the hatch in gravity just noticeably lighter less than on a colony. He felt a little uncertain in his steps, light as if he might fly away at any moment. But he stayed securely on identifiable ground in the asteroid's artificial spin. He held up a hand to aid Duo's descent, and together they turned. He opened the hatch.

They were met on the other side of the lock by three armed men in the specially designed uniforms of Preventers Bureau of Justice Corrections. The bruise-red of their coats reminded Wufei not a little of the old Specials uniforms. He shivered once before he shook off the ghosts of the past.

'Sir,' the one in the lead said coldly, putting up his rifle. 'Stand where you are.'

Wufei had hoped they'd be spared a scene like this. But, faced with it, he obeyed. To draw any attention by disrupting protocol could only damage any rapport he would need to build with the staff to get an honest report. He needed them to think he was on their side.

'Maxwell, one metre forward. Halt. Hands up.'

Duo obeyed it all, too, in a curious combination of tense embarrassment and resignation. He set his hands to his neck, elbows jutting out, and still as one of the Preventers gave him a rough and thorough pat-down. Then, wrist by wrist, they sealed him in mag-lock cuffs.

'Captain Chang,' the leader greeted him then. 'I'm Sergeant Ledvina. Warden Lahey has asked me to extend his welcome, and to provide you with whatever you need during your stay.'

'Thank you,' Wufei answered automatically. They were moving Duo out of the lock. Wufei followed slowly, nodding at Ledvina's rather half-hearted salute. 'Where will he be taken?'

'Standard quarantine while we check for communicable diseases, then release back into the general population. About five hours.' Wufei had no more time for questions, then. Ledvina's men were already marching Duo out and away, toward a nearby building with blinded windows and white-painted letters 'XO-1' on the double door. 'Where do you want to start inspection, Captain?'

He picked up, then, the undercurrent of resentment. He saw it mirrored in eyes that were hardened to him. He had encountered the like before-- most recently from Cloudwalker on L2-- but it surprised him, here. He had expected-- well, a bored staff who would be eager for a fresh face, news of the 'outside', perhaps even a ceremonial spit-and-polish presentation of the ranks. But he stood alone now with the sergeant, and there was no other living being in sight. Duo's silence of the matter of expectations made more sense suddenly.

'The warden?' Wufei asked. 'He's where?'

'Indisposed, sir.'

Sick? Or unwilling? Avoiding a confrontation? 'I'll be needing quarters for the duration of my stay. I presume the warden has access credentials ready for me, and all the proper paperwork.'

'Yes,' Ledvina said, with a distinct drop in enthusiasm. 'It's all in Lahey's office. The paperwork's ready for you. But he said you'd want to look around.'

'We can do that first. I'd like to form my own opinion of your setup before I read the Warden's.' He gave the man a moment to absorb the idea that he would be willing to hear their side of things, if there was any difficulty between the mysteriously missing warden and the staff. But, if anything, Ledvina's face was colder still.

'When you're ready, Sergeant,' he said.

It was not what he had expected, this place. Very little modification had been made to what looked like centuries-old mining facilities. Spindly corridors set out a basic grid, bisected with barracks to two sides, offices to the others, and a large centre atrium, now devoid of living plants, keeping the two at careful distance. It was a perfect image of a grim opposition between prisoner and staff. Of the former, some three dozen loitered in the bare atrium, mercifully not open to the blackness of Space beyond the glass-like bio-dome. The ceiling was painted to look like an Earthly sky. Long before stable colonies had been built and Space-faring humans had forgot to love open atmosphere, miners risking their lives and their sanity had brought this bit of home with them. But only a few prisoners gazed up at that sole vestige of a planet they would never see again. The rest walked idly around the edges, played cards or dice in small groups, or stared sullen and glazed at a large screen playing an old film. A pretty actress cried as her boyfriend left her in a plush, sum-bright apartment. A man in the audience protested, loudly, and was shushed by his companions.

'Exercise and entertainment,' his escort told Wufei. 'They get ten hours here, three and a half in Mess for meals, as they please, curfew and lock-down at 1900.'

'Structured activity?' Wufei asked.

'Why bother?' the sergeant shrugged. 'They're not violent. They don't need to be controlled. Warden before Lahey had all sorts of ideas. Even talked about bringing the mine back up and running, work 'em a bit.'

'Why didn't he?'

'They're not violent,' Ledvina repeated, but his voice dropped to a sullen mutter. 'And they're not here for hard labour. It's enough of a punishment just to be here.'

Wufei looked as closely at his escort as he did at their surroundings. This man wasn't so young that he was swept away by either passion or romantic ideals; he didn't hate his wards, but he didn't want them any favours before his own, that much was obvious. And he expected some kind of bad end to Wufei's inspection, that was the reason for the hostility.

Which meant there was something he thought warranted a bad report, didn't it?

'Where are the women?' he asked. 'I don't see any here.'

'Separate compound,' the leader told him shortly. 'For their own safety. If you want to see that too, Jones can take you.'

'Yes, I would. When we're finished on this side.'

They showed him both staff and prisoner barracks, the mess hall, the small hydroponics lab where they grew the food that fed this lonely outpost. Wufei was more sympathetic to Duo's food cravings, after seeing that. The only fresh produce were sprouts and a sponge-like creation that tasted, he was told, a bit like broccoli. Meat arrived on supply shipments, freeze-dried, reserved for staff alone due to quantity. The prisoners ate soya and spirolina, drank recycled water. Coffee was a much-desired trade and came as rarely as the meat; the vices here were as grim and forgotten as the prison itself.

It was not very long before his tour ran out. He wasn't ready to venture over to the women's compound yet, so he let himself be led to the Warden's office to look over records. Lahey was not a particularly neat, nor, Wufei suspected, motivated governor. His records were spotty, his reports generic. But Wufei gathered one important fact. His staff were almost entirely unsupervised. There were virtually no performance measures in place. There were files and files of complaints against specific prisoners-- most of them, Wufei noticed, from OZ or Alliance, a few from the Barton Rebellion, and in specific the villain Sogran, a name Wufei hadn't seen since he was a teen himself. Sogran had been the leader of a White Fang offshoot, one that included Trowa Barton's childhood friend Ralph Kurt. They had failed in their attempt to buy a Gundam to resurrect their rebellion. All the Gundam Pilots had united, for one of the last times, to bring down that threat, and the fledgling Preventers had cleaned up the mess. Wufei had never known that Sogran had been detained here. He suspected he would know most of the names, if he really looked. There were people who couldn't keep quiet even in a locked room. Whether that door would ever be opened again-- that was a good question.

Such an eclectic collection. A carefully selective group of prisoners. Sogran, but not Ralph Kurt or Chris Marley, who had been arguably more involved in the actual crimes-- the hands that did the dirty work were usually not the same pulling the strings. Some fifteen of OZ's surviving top officers-- but not the true perpetrators of OZ's many machinations, Lady Une, Lucretia Noin, Zechs Merquise. White Fang's most dangerous recluse was notably absent; Dorothy Catalonia had all but retired from public life, but without a single charge ever filed against her. In fact, with few exceptions, CLZ9-2 was almost entirely filled with mid-level pencil-pushers, not the ringleaders or even second-in-commands. Those with the notoriety had used their visibility for public apologies and well-timed gestures of atonement-- like joining Preventers to protect the same Earth they'd once threatened. Wufei himself had done so, naively never questioning the efficacy of such a catch-all for reformed traitors, never imagining he might have earned a place in such a jail instead of the freedom to forget he'd ever wavered.

The ones unlucky enough to be sentenced out of the public eye and locked away from even hope of parole-- they'd at least, it could be said, stuck to their convictions. Duo had disdained a lighter sentence requiring an admission of guilt. I would do it again, he'd said.

But he hadn't.

'Thank you for your time,' Wufei said finally. 'I believe I'll escort myself now.'

'Sir—'

'Dismissed,' Wufei added. 'I'll find my way around very handily, thanks to your tour.'

'You shouldn't walk around alone, Captain.'

'Am I in danger?'

'I-- no--'

'Then I'll let you get back to your usual duties, Sergeant.'

The man stared at him. Then his jaw squared as he clenched his teeth. 'Yes, sir,' he said flatly, and left with nothing else. The door slid closed in his wake, as if he'd never been there.

Wufei took a deep breath. He followed the man out, and plunged into his job.

He went to the Mess first, dubious at the wisdom of letting prisoners enter and leave at will. But it looked no different than in the Preventers mess. A few groups of men sat together, some playing cards, a few lounging in gossip as they ate; one table even featured an older man reading aloud from a book, with the rest listening keenly, even dreamily. Wufei thought at first it might be a bible, but when the elder lifted it to turn the page, he saw it was _Major Barbara_. He had a jolt, at that. That play had been taught at every OZ academy to a generation of soldiers. It had been on the Preventers Academy reading list, for that very reason.

_Only the murderous command can inaugurate the new world that follows necessarily according to the Will of the great man. Until he achieves his Will, he is a menace to civilisation; upon its realisation, he becomes its benefactor. Thus, the great man makes history._

'Hello,' he said to them. 'Excuse me.'

The old man stopped reading promptly, the book tilting down to the table. His eyes skipped over Wufei, wide in surprise; then, as one, every face at the table shuttered closed. Only the old man met his gaze.

'Sir,' the man said. 'We hadn't heard there'd be a new rotation of guards.'

'There isn't.' Wufei gestured to the empty space at the edge of the group. 'I was wondering if I could join you. It's been a long time since I've read that play.'

They were all clearly uncomfortable in his presence. Wufei kept his body language open, his expression sincere. The old man nodded slowly. Wufei slid over the bench and settled at the table, folding his arms before him in an attentive attitude.

Slowly the man resumed his reading. He had a commander's level voice, and shared the same English accent as his characters, lending an expressiveness to the words that Wufei had never imagined when he'd read the play for himself. Despite themselves, the other prisoners soon forgot Wufei, caught up in the story.

'Cusins says, “Excuse me: is there any place in your religion for honour, justice, truth, love, mercy, and so forth?”

'Undershaft says, “Yes: they are the graces and luxuries of a rich, strong, and safe life.”

'Cusins: “Suppose one is forced to choose between them and money or gunpowder?”

'Undershaft: “Choose money or gunpowder, for without enough of both you cannot afford the others.”

'Cusins asks him, “That is your religion?”

'”Yes,” Undershaft answers. The cadence of this reply makes a full close on the conversation. Cusins twists his face dubiously and contemplates Undershaft. Undershaft contemplates him.

'Cusins asks him, “You remember what Euripedes says about your money and gunpowder?”

'Undershaft declines, “No.”

'Cusins declaims it:

'“One and another,  
In money and guns may outpass his brother;  
And men in their millions float and flow,  
And seethe with a million hopes as leaven;  
And they win their will; or they miss their will;  
And their hopes are dead or are pined for still:  
But whoe'er can know  
As the long days go  
That to live is happy, has found his heaven.”

'”My translation,” Cusins says, “what do you think of it?”

'Undershaft: “I think, my friend, that if you wish to know, as the long days go, that to live is happy, you must first acquire money enough for a decent life, and power enough to be your own master.”'

'Cusins reels before the storm. “Father Colossus! Mammoth Millionaire--”

'Undershaft presses him. “Are there two mad people or three in this Shelter today?”

'Cusins: “You mean Barbara is as mad as we are?”

'Undershaft says, “Pooh, Professor! Let us call things by their proper names. I am a millionaire; you are a poet; Barbara is a savior of souls. What have we three to do with a common mob of slaves and idolaters?”

'”Take care!” Cusins says. “Barbara is in love with the common people. So am I. Have you never felt the romance of that love?”

'Undershaft is cold and sardonic. “Have you ever been in love with Poverty, like Saint Francis? Have you ever been in love with Dirt, like Saint Simeon? Have you ever been in love with disease and suffering, like our nurses and philanthropists? Such passions are not virtues, but the most unnatural of all the vices. This love of the common people may please an earl's granddaughter and a university professor, but I have been a common man and a poor man; and it has no romance for me. Leave it to the poor to pretend that poverty is a blessing: leave it to the coward to make a religion of his cowardice by preaching humility: we know better than that. We three must stand together above the common people: how else can we help their children to climb up beside us?”'

The prisoners all broke into approving nods, though some buried their reactions quickly and guiltily as they recalled Wufei's presence. Wufei, caught somewhere between the comforting distance of intellectual engagement and an emotionalised, repulsed repudiation, could do nothing to set them at their ease.

Abruptly, perhaps responding to Wufei's ambivalence, the old man snapped his book closed. 'Move along, you lot,' he said to his crowd. 'We'll read more at dinner.'

The order dispelled the enchantment. The table emptied immediately. Wufei didn't try to stop them. He was both troubled and intrigued by his brief moment with the prisoners. He'd never heard of anything so benign as a book club in a prison; but that was not a benign piece of literature. Not benign at all. This place was not at all what he'd expected.

The old man didn't go, right away, though he climbed down from his perch on the table, the play cupped loosely to his chest. He said, 'If you're not a new one, why are you here?'

Wufei stood slowly. 'I'm here to inspect the facilities.'

'Inspect.' The old man frowned. 'Why for?'

'To change things,' Wufei said. 'For the better, I hope.'

'For the better.' The old man shrugged him off, sceptical. But he rubbed at his stubbled jaw, and Wufei waited patiently, sensing another question coming. 'I know who you are,' the prisoner said then. 'We didn't quite fight, once. You disabled my Tragos. Then one of my boys hit you from behind, and you went off to deal with them.'

Wufei didn't ask for confirming details. There were dozens of places and times, all long past. Instead, he said, 'You have a way with the characters in the play.'

'Not the first time we've read it.' The old man shrugged him off uneasily. 'Limited library. Of the real books, I mean. There's more on computer, if you can get access, but you can't bring them in here, off the screens.'

'What's your name?'

'Gupta, sir.'

'Given name?'

The old man scratched his fingers into his jaw; then he crossed his arms over his chest. 'Pradeep.'

'Pradeep.' Wufei extended his hand. 'I'm Chang Wufei. I'm glad to know you.'

Pradeep stared at his hand as if it were a poisonous snake. Then, like a man reaching into fire, he gingerly took Wufei's fingers, and squeezed.

'I'm here for a few days,' Wufei told him. 'I hope you'll come to me with any advice that could help me interpret this place. If you think of anything.'

'Yeah,' Pradeep said, then, 'Yeah,' a little stronger. 'Thank you, sir.'

'Thank you,' Wufei answered gravely, and let the man go. 

A snort of distinct amusement made him turn. It was Duo, now dressed in the same blue jumpsuit as the other prisoners. His eyes seemed a little red, but it was dim in the Mess, and Wufei wasn't sure.

'I'm being funny?' Wufei asked him.

'No,' Duo said. 'You did good, actually.' He jerked his chin at the buffet line behind Wufei. 'Hungry? I can't much recommend it.'

'I'll give it a try.' He fell in with Duo, maintaining an itchy few inches of space between them. The buffet was nothing but a single queue of large plastic bins with taps. Having seen the hydroponics labs, Wufei was even less encouraged about the contents of the vats. 'What does quarantine consist of?' he asked then. 'Why wasn't I asked to participate?'

'Quarantine?' Duo was blank for a moment. Then, stiltedly, he said, 'Yeah, quarantine.' And then suddenly he laughed. 'They frisked me, sure, asked me where I'd been, what I'd done, and the all-important who I've told, and then they gave me my well-deserved jabs. And we all went on about our day.'

'What kind of jabs?'

'The kind that remind you not to spread anything around.' Duo fished bowls from the still-wet pile of clean utensils, and squeezed a thick spiral of beige spirolina into his. He stuck a spoon upright in it and passed it off to Wufei. 'Did you sit through much of that? Everyone calls them “The Bookies”. They read _Major Barbara_ every damn year this time. I could recite the whole thing by memory, gag me.'

'Do they always read that-- kind of material?'

'What, moralistic and yawn-inducing? Mostly. There's another group that does sci-fi and comedy and the occasional Jane Austen. It's all down party lines.'

Party lines. 'OZ and Rebel? Is it always like that here?'

'Natural enough,' Duo said. 'But not always. Did they show you around? I can, if you want to meet more of us.'

'I think so, yes. That would be good.' Wufei added a plastic glass of water to his tray, and they sat at the table nearest the distribution queue. They were, he noticed, the subject of speculative looks from the other prisoners, who had begun to notice his uniform. 'Will it be hard for you to be seen with me?' he asked Duo seriously. A trio of Preventer guards had appeared at the doors, though they made no move to approach or even leave the doorway.

Duo shrugged it off, though. 'Officers don't really associate with us, but word'll spread why you're here. Don't single me out the whole time, is all.'

Wufei took the advice, and what was implied by it, gravely. 'Are you allowed about?'

'About ten hours a spin,' Duo answered. It did confirm, at least, what Ledvina had told him. Duo directed him to a table only a few steps from the queue, and they sat facing each other on the edge. Duo ate efficiently, but without any of the enthusiasm he'd had on L2 for tastier offerings. Wufei gave his meal a ginger try, and made a little face, for Duo's benefit. Duo grinned briefly. 'We have chores,' Duo continued. 'Laundry, kitchen, cleaning detail. I'll have to find out where I'm at now. Probably laundry. Take me months to work back up to broom duty.'

'It's not randomly assigned?'

'It is if you don't know the right ear to whisper in.' Duo's eyes dropped to his spoon. 'Or if no-one wants to listen to you.'

'You have contacts who will do you these favours?'

'Before, yeah.' Duo's spoon clinked on his teeth as he swallowed a bite. 'There's some-- jealousy being expressed.'

'If the other prisoners are threatening you--'

'Not the prisoners, Wufei.' He shrugged, but the grim stir of his spoon turning over the spirolina and the flash of white knuckles told another story. 'I got out, even if I had to come back. They'll get over it.'

That troubled Wufei, but Duo's walls were up, in a way he hadn't seen since the 'surgery' Keawe's man had performed to remove Duo's implant. Duo had seemed a different person, he was realising only now-- more open, more openly vulnerable. He supposed he'd attributed it to the progress of their understanding-- the open admission that they cared, still, and newly, for each other. But that honesty was gone now. Wufei just wasn't sure which of them the buffer was meant to protect.

'The warden,' Wufei said then.

'Lahey?' Duo's shoulders jerked up again. 'Probably too drunk to get out of bed for you. Why they sent a sick old man to a post like this I'll never know.' He met Wufei's raised brow with one of his own. 'The drinking is for the pain. He makes it up when he can. Not so much the last few years. But he's not a bad man. He lets us be. Benign neglect's not really the worst thing, here.'

'Who's really in charge, then?'

'Bourque, mostly. One of the lifers. None of them want to be here, so seniority weighs. He's the one who signs the reports and mediates the conflicts. Aren't many, though. Only time to get excited is when they kick some new sod in here, and that's not so often, now. We're not even due a new batch of guards for about a year and a half.'

'Why didn't this Bourque greet me, if he's the leader?'

'Too smart,' Duo dismissed it. 'You're not supposed to know the details. You make a bad report, things get worse for them. If you're desperate to talk to him, I can hook you up.'

'I think I should. If only so he understands I'm not here to punish anyone.'

Duo glanced up. He sucked his lower lip for a moment, teeth leaving little red marks. He nodded.

'But I want to talk to more of the prisoners, too. If you can think of who I should meet.'

Offered a real opening for his opinion, Duo straightened a bit. 'Yeah. Yeah, I think that would be good. You made a good start with Gupta. And you should check out the women's, too. They run things a little different there.'

'You're my guide,' Wufei said, and tried to pass it off as whimsy. 'Once more. Always.'

But it made Duo's back slump, instead, and he scraped diffidently at his bowl for the last of his meal. 'You don't need me for that, any more. You made a good start with Gupta. With L2. You've picked up the feel for it.'

'I had a good teacher, then.'

'I'm a page in your book.' Duo's lashes turned up, a glimmer of his eyes beneath. He took Wufei's only half-empty bowl, and stood. 'Let's go, Grasshopper.'

 

**

 

'Exercise room,' Duo pointed. 'There's a couple of meat-heads, but by and large we're a weak, scholarly group. Officers use it more'n we do. They have shifts, we get the rest of the time-- no crossover.'

'Incidents?'

'Occasionally. When they first opened this place, Conway Cooper got into a tussle with a Preventer over the weight machine.'

Wufei knew that name. Cooper had been a priority target in the Resistance. Cooper had earned the nickname 'Bloodhound' for his aggressive blitz through China. In fact, Sally Po had been responsible for netting him, in the act of razing poor villages from the comfort of a Tragos battalion. 'Who won?' Wufei asked.

'The officer. Bashed Cooper's head in with a ten-pounder.' Duo jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 'Coop's sweet as a button these days. Did wonders for his temper. He drools a lot, though.'

Wufei was a little appalled. 'And was the Preventer punished?'

'How? He was already on the worst posting available.'

'They should have discharged him and pressed charges.'

'Maybe, but they didn't.'

'Is the officer still here?'

'Transferred out about when I got here. He probably wasn't a bad guy, Wufei. Conway Cooper gets up in your face, you reach for the nearest weapon.'

Still. 'Any other local celebrities crippled in fights with officers?'

'Coop was kind of an object lesson, you could say. If there's tension, you deal with it quietly. We've got elected mediators, on both sides. In fact, you already met one of 'em.'

'Who?'

'Gupta. He's on his way out, though. One year. They stagger it with the officer election, so the new guy on their side still has six months. I'll make sure you meet him too.'

'How are elections held?' he asked.

'You put your name in a hat and Warden draws.'

'I thought you said the Warden was ill?'

'Or Bourque, then.' Duo shrugged, as he motioned Wufei to the left between a cross-section of barracks. 'Once in a while it's rigged, but what election isn't? It works, more or less.'

'People abide by the mediation?'

'More or less,' Duo said again. 'A little less than more. But it beats looking over your shoulder. Here. Let's go in B6. I want you to meet some of my kind.'

The pair in question were found in a little common area in the centre of the barrack, sitting beneath a flickering fluorescent with a tatty chessboard. A few others loitered on the bunks, some sleeping, and a few outright snoring. Everyone awake looked up with his approach, but they went ignored by all but the two at the game. One, a slim dark-skinned man tall enough to show an inch or two of skin beneath the legs of his coverall, rose to greet Duo with a subdued but genuine enthusiasm, clapping him on the shoulder with a loud smack and smooshing Duo into his sternum in a gruff embrace.

'I heard you were back, Maxwell,' the seated man commented, though it was Wufei he eyed. A moment later, he inclined his head. 'Officer.'

'Captain Chang,' Duo introduced him, winking up at the big man who slung an arm about his slight frame. 'Meet Lida Ren,' he motioned to the big one, 'and Diesel. Lida and I go way back on L2. Diesel's a Peerless.'

'Was,' Diesel sniffed. He pursed his lips, and dismissed them all with a flick of his unnaturally long fingers. 'The only thing anyone here could be called any more is _bored_.'

'A Peerless,' Wufei repeated. 'I didn't know any had survived the raid on B3-12769.' That explained what he had thought was a trick of the overhead light. Diesel's eyes gleamed a subtle gold in shadow. He had seen that quality in the footage from the raid, one of Preventers' first officially sanctioned military actions. The Peerless had called themselves Newtypes. New Humankind. It had been a leap too far for anyone 'unenhanced' to follow. Or to kneel to.

'They didn't,' Duo told him. 'Diesel was the coward who got while the getting was good.'

'I prefer the term “realist”,' Diesel corrected archly, unbothered by Duo's tease. 'My people were in love with the sound of their mellifluous voices, and failed to hear the drums of destiny. The Sphere wasn't ready for a regime of genetic mutants, however objectively qualified we clearly were. I happily surrendered to the forces of mediocrity, in exchange for this cozy chamber on the edge of nothingness.'

'He sold out,' Lida translated, easing back into his small plastic chair.

'I just said that,' Diesel protested. 'Fat lot of good it did me.' He moved his rook clear across the board, capturing the white queen. 'Oh, check mate, you lard of incompetence. Maxwell, who is your charmingly vacant-eyed companion? You haven't adopted a new pet, have you?'

'Captain Chang is inspecting us,' Duo told them. 'Us and them. He's only here long enough to look around. If you have anything to say, he's the one to tell.'

'Send conversation,' Diesel retorted. 'Send wit. Send comic relief.'

Despite himself, Wufei found he was smiling. 'Would you prefer Voltaire or Kafka?'

Diesel rewarded his sally with an abrupt bark of a laugh. 'Ah,' he chortled. 'Ah, someone with a sense of irony. I've missed irony, you know.'

'You want irony?' Duo told Wufei. 'He reads comic books. Look, you two, I'm serious. Lida, I want you to tell Captain Chang.'

Newly sober faces went still and unrevealing. 'I don't think you should be asking that,' Diesel said.

'Am, though. Come on, Lida.'

The big man rubbed his stubbled chin. 'Damn, Maxwell. You have a rough way of calling in owed.'

'He's a venn,' Duo said then. 'You trust him like you trust me.'

That was, Wufei realised, startled, the first time Duo had explicitly linked himself to Wufei. Until he heard the affirmative, he'd never quite noticed that Duo had always carefully maintained that distance between them. He wondered if Duo claimed him now just for the purposes of ferreting out this story he wanted Wufei to hear, or if he meant it honestly.

It worked on Lida, though. The man pulled a long grimace, but that was the last of his protest. All he said was, 'Let's find ourselves a space, gentlemen.'

They walked only a short distance, to the edge of the barrack and outside to lean on the walls. Diesel seemed agitated by the move, but came with them all the same, glaring suspiciously into the dim. Lida's broad shoulders blocked their exit window, and Duo went into a casual slouch that Wufei consciously mimicked, understanding they were less likely to be interrupted if they didn't draw attention by appearing to openly conspire. At Duo's nod, Lida heaved a sigh, and spoke in a quiet murmur that carried no further than their ears.

'They took away my parole hearing,' the big man told him simply.

'His sentence was twenty years with opportunity for parole in seven,' Duo added softly. 'Tell him what happened, Lida.'

'I spoke up,' Lida said harshly. 'Not for me. I got nothin' out there to rush back to. But there's things here ain't right, and I spoke my piece about it, told the truth. I filed a real complaint, paperwork and all. Not just mediation. And then they took away my hearing.'

'They said they lost his file,' Diesel added. 'How do you lose a man's entire file? There are dozens of digital safeguards, and years of metadata alone.'

'You're sure they were lying?' he had to ask.

'They don't get a lot of official complaints,' Duo said only.

'I'll find your file,' Wufei promised immediately, deciding he could go that far at least on the story given him. 'And I will investigate your complaint, too. If it's really been misplaced, I'll fix it. If there are other reasons-- I'll find out.'

Lida's black eyes swept to Duo. Wufei felt his nod. 'You would do that?'

'I will,' Wufei said. He held out his hand. As with Gupta, it took a deep stare of mistrust, and Duo's gentle murmur of agreement. Lida squeezed his fingers only limply, clearly not believing him. But Duo put his hand on Lida's shoulder, and Lida rubbed hard at his nose.

'Just want my fair shake,' he muttered.

'I'll make sure you get it.' A pair of Preventer guards walked past them, and the three prisoners all went stiff and breathless; but the men were deep in conversation and barely looked at them. Wufei recalled their attention gently. 'But if you can give me any information about your complaint that will help, I can do it faster. Who did you submit it to? What were the circumstances that prompted it?'

'No,' Diesel interrupted sharply. 'No, don't go getting in trouble, Lida.'

'It will help if I know what I'm looking for,' Wufei tried.

'No,' the Peerless told him flatly. 'His name gets on a report, connected to an officer's name, and he's in for it here. They'll lose his name off the roles, next. He could disappear in here forever.'

'He's right,' Duo quietly agreed. 'He shouldn't risk it. You've got enough to dig on.'

'It will be difficult,' Wufei tried to warn them.

'You're a Preventer,' Duo shrugged. 'You signed on for difficulty.' He took Wufei by the elbow, just long enough to steer him into a turn. 'Thanks, Lida. Stay low tonight, in case.'

'You watch it,' Diesel called after them. 'Don't go stirring it up your first day back, Maxwell.'

'If there is retaliation like that, they're right,' Wufei told him, as they left the barrack behind.

'Chill. I know my way here. Besides, I was never up for parole.'

'I'm sure you do know your way, but your actions on L2 don't inspire the greatest of confidence you won't risk more than you ought.'

'I love the way you talk,' Duo said, quirking his mouth into a tiny smile. 'L2 was different. I didn't set the bounds, Commanders High and Mighty did. Here, you play the game. We all do.'

'Then explain to me the mixed signals. You say it's safe. Not violent. Freedom to move around, to mix. Yet your friend there made a single complaint and now he thinks he's being blackmailed?'

'The second you poke your head in, they'll “find” his file and he'll get his date back.' Duo shoved his hands into his pockets, but it drew attention to his limp. Before Wufei could ask if he needed to rest, Duo went on with his parables. 'He didn't make a complaint, he filed an Official Complaint. It mandates an investigation. The Warden appoints a senior staffer and they have thirty days to look into it. It looks bad for the staff.'

That much, Wufei knew from the briefing Quatre had prepared for him. And he knew, too, that the last Bureau of Justice Statistics Report claimed that forty-five percent of Official Complaints filed by prisoners resulted in a default judgment to the officer accused. Thirty-seven percent got no result at all. Only nineteen percent awarded any action to the complaintant. When he'd read the numbers, he'd assumed, perhaps naively, that investigations were conducted faithfully. He'd assumed, he supposed, that prisoners lied, or wanted attention, or exaggerated. He couldn't say that, though, to Duo. Duo had brought him to Lida Ren for a specific reason. Duo always had a reason.

'What did he complain about.'

'Off the record,' Duo said.

'Off the record, yes.'

'He did it for Diesel. Diesel put up a fuss one day, so they put him on the Frequent Flyer routine. It's where they move you from barrack to barrack, all night long. No sleep, no settling in. They did it three nights. Diesel's high-strung. He's not good with change. He was only upset at all because they changed the settings on the temperature. Happens every month, but it irritated the wrong officer. The Flying freaked him out, really freaked him out. So Lida complained. Et voila, no parole hearing. Even if it magically reappears, he'll probably serve an extra year or two. Doesn't matter what causes it, the irregularity looks bad and it slows everything down.'

'How often does this Frequent Flyer happen?'

'The new ones do it most when they get stationed here, until they get too lazy. See, most of us have had some kind of training. We can get by when they play with us. The rest-- more vulnerable.'

'Has it been done to you?'

'You know what's really hilarious? You remember, it was like mid-August, I'd been brought in by OZ, they were going to hang me or peel me to death or whatever, they destroyed my Deathscythe? That was the first time they tried it on me. Bright lights, lots of noise-- country music blasting every hour, that was the real torture. Me, though, I can sleep standing up in a spaceport right under the thrusters. But what's really funny-- I should introduce you-- one of the guys who used to do that to me there, he's my bunk mate now. My freaking bunkmate. It's funny, isn't it?'

It also conveniently bypassed Wufei's question. He let it pass, though. Duo was carefully choosing what to show him about this place. There were reasons for that, too, he was sure.

Their next stop fed his suspicion about Duo's notion of balance. They approached a trio of off-duty officers who loitered outside in their own small version of that large arboretum in the centre of the dome. Wufei's uniform got them into the officer compound without comment, but, oddly, no-one seemed to look twice at Duo's presence. Perhaps it was that here, as on L2, Duo knew everyone and went where he pleased. Certainly the officers, two middle-aged and one white-haired man nearing the end of his career, greeted Duo personably and without any misgivings. But they were cagier than the prisoners, and Wufei left them knowing nothing of their true feelings.

Or, he thought-- Duo's notion of balance again on his mind-- maybe the officers had nothing to tell. It was possible for there to be minor corruption in a prison without unearthing pervasive cruelty and barbarism beneath. Prisoners complained. A little retaliation was not unexpected, just disappointing. And it could be safeguarded with stringent supervision of the right sort.

As they left the officers' barracks, Duo walked closer to him for a few slow yards, so that their elbows bumped with each step, to make them both smile. They reached the edge of the arboretum, where a new film was playing, and a new crowd settling in on every available surface. 'Not much to do until dinner,' Duo told him. 'You maybe should hang about the film area. They won't talk to you while it's on, but they'll see you. You might get a few come up to you, after they put the news on.'

'As you think best.' There wasn't enough privacy to really talk, here, and he was mindful of Duo's request that he not be singled out too much. 'You said you had chores?'

'Yeah, I mean, nothing much left to show you anyway, unless you care about the laundry--' Duo cut himself off, squinting across the yard. 'Is that Lech? I can't freaking see in this light.'

'How would I know who it is?'

'It's him. Come on. Got one more glad-hand in you?' Duo drew him around the edge of the arboretum, behind the audience watching the screen. His target, it soon became clear, was one of the armed Preventers lounging against a support pillar, eyes on the film. But the officer straightened at their approach, and went into a stiff salute.

'Captain Chang, you've met Sergeant Lech Ledvina,' Duo said. 'Lech, relax, for fuck's sake.'

Ledvina scowled, two bright spots appearing in his pockmarked cheeks at Duo's breezy vulgarity. 'Captain,' he said, 'is this prisoner bothering you?'

'No more than normal.' Wufei took Duo's advice, and extended his hand once more. 'We haven't spoken informally. Until recently, I was just a field agent, myself.'

'Sir.' Ledvina pressed his palm quickly, nervously. 'Is there anything you need? Uh, anything I can get you...'

'Lech's the other mediator,' Duo told him. 'Second time, for him. Lech, tell Captain Chang about the pool table.'

'The pool table?' Wufei repeated politely.

Ledvina's entire face was being consumed by his blush, now. He fingered the strap of his rifle twitchily. 'It's nothing to bother the captain with, Maxwell. Don't you have somewhere else to be?'

'Lech wants to start a league,' Duo said, ignoring that. 'We had a shuttleboard league, back a few years, but a couple of the pucks broke and it sort of fell apart. Barrack on barrack, and prisoner versus Preventer.'

Wufei had instantaneous doubts about the wisdom of that, but Duo spoke in all seriousness, without any of the hints Wufei expected to indicate it had gone the way of Conway Cooper. 'I take it there's some problem with the pool equipment, too?'

'Tell him,' Duo urged.

Ledvina was almost squirming under his attention. But then, as if surprising even himself, he blurted, 'We don't have any equipment, Captain Chang, that's the problem. I've sent in ten requisition forms and all of them come back unsigned.'

'A pool table would be a very large shipment,' Wufei began dubiously.

'No, sir, we can fab up the table. It's the balls and the rack and the cues. Total, it'd be under the kilo-weight for discretionary requisitions, sir. The leagues are a great idea, sir, they really are. It gets people playing together. You feel a lot better about a man when you have a little friendly competition.'

'And it is? Friendly?'

'It is,' Duo confirmed. 'Believe it or not. Ledvina started a league back at home, didn't you, Lech? Police on the local gang bangers. Twice a month, with pizza and soda. Big success.'

'Not asking for the pizza or soda here,' Ledvina added. 'Just the equipment.'

'And in your judgment, it would be beneficial for relations between staff and prisoners?'

'If it makes people laugh together, sir, I've got no doubts at all it's a good thing.'

It was, Wufei thought, the first of many bizarre requests he was going to get in his new position. But Duo nodded his encouragement, and Ledvina was looking at him with sudden hope.

'Get me a requisition before I go,' Wufei told him. 'I'll put it in myself. And I'll make sure that equipment is on the next shipment in.'

Ledvina's stuttered thanks followed them as Duo walked him off. 'Nicely done, sir,' Duo winked.

'Don't make me into the party planner, Duo, I beg you.'

'You really don't get enough credit for being funny, you know.'

'Maxwell.'

They both turned at the name-call. It was another blue-suited prisoner, a young man, this time, who held timidly back in the shelter of a nearby building labelled only Y3.

'Bourque's looking for you,' the boy called. 'You missed check-in.'

'Check-in?' Wufei asked, slowing to face the boy.

'A joke,' Duo said shortly. He waved a reluctant acknowledgment. 'I ought to go, though. You'll be all right on your own?' He hesitated oddly, his shoulders sharply akimbo. 'I can get someone to walk you around.'

'No, I'll be fine,' he said, bemused by Duo's sudden protectiveness. 'Unless you think I need it.'

'No. You're fine.' Duo gave him a quick smile that didn't reach his eyes, all his good humour vanished. 'And I'll tell Bourque to find you, later. He's the one you really ought to see.'

'I'll wait, then.'

'And send a word up to your kiss-ass on the shuttle. She's got to be dying up there, without you to wait on.'

He made a face to be reminded about Jaya. 'I will,' he nodded. 'Go on.'

'Yeah.' Still Duo didn't leave. He swayed, actually, a little in toward Wufei; then away. Then he shook himself, braid swinging as he turned on a heel. Wufei watched him go, brushing past the boy who'd called out to him. He waited until Duo disappeared between the close-built buildings.

Then, alone, he had little choice but to do as Duo had suggested, and hang about hoping to approach people willing to talk. He had little luck, in that regard. Without Duo there to be his mark of trustworthiness, he had no chance at all with the more skittish prisoners. He was, at least, being noticed. His uniform identified him as something different than the red-coated officers, but the prisoners didn't know what that did make him, of course. He followed a large group into the mess at what seemed to be the accepted dinner hour, and was even invited to sit with a group of officers who monitored the crowd from the front. But their conversation was all for the news from Earth. Telling them what wasn't classified of recent events kept him occupied til after most of the prisoners were gone again. Worse, none of the officers stayed to talk to him, after his lengthy recitation. Worse still, if Duo had come in for his meal, Wufei had missed him.

At last, left with no alternative, Wufei gave in and made his way to the quarters in the officers' baracks that Ledvina had prepared for him, so many hours earlier. His one bag had been left on the foot of a cot that sagged a bit in the middle, and the remains of a quick dusting told him the room had not seen much use lately. He hung his uniform on the rickety metal rack provided, shaved over the small sink in lukewarm water, and settled in stiff-feeling sheets to read his briefing again with a more informed eye. At last, though, when the digital clock blinked 02:18, he shut off his lamp, and closed his eyes on pitch darkness.

He reached for Duo, that night, sure he would feel warmth nearby, and fell back into weary sleep without him.

Ledvina fetched him early in the AM, as he was dressing to head to Mess. He answered the knock on his door as he buttoned his shirt, and nodded as Ledvina saluted him even more smartly than before their talk the night before. 'Good morning, Sergeant,' he said.

'Sir,' Ledvina said crisply. 'I've been asked to deliver these to you.' He extended two folded bits of paper.

Wufei took them with murmured thanks, and unfolded the top. It was a hand-written note, signed, he saw first, by the mysterious Bourque. It was an invitation to dine privately at 1800.

So. Duo had delivered on his promise. He'd got Bourque to meet with Wufei.

'Thank you,' he repeated to the sergeant, and slid the note into his pocket. 'You can tell Lieutenant Bourque I accept. I'm happy to accept.'

'I'll pass that on, sir.'

The second note had the creases for many more folds, but was now only doubled over. A private communication that had been read? By who, Ledvina? Bourque? Or just re-used, a scarcity of materials? He saw no obvious marks on the outside, and flipped it open into the light.

Another invitation. Signed by Mariemaia Barton.

So. He had wondered if he would see her. He had anticipated it-- expected it could happen, at least. To find it in the process of happening was another thing entirely. Faced with it, he was not at all sure how he felt about it. 'How does one get to the women's?' he asked Ledvina. He turned the note over again, but it held nothing but the one sentence. _Meet me as soon as possible._

'Tunnel, sir,' Ledvina said. 'You want to tour it today?'

'Yes, if it can be arranged.' It had been in his plan anyway. He had not expected Mariemaia to seek him out. And he had to wonder just how much gossip travelled between the men's and women's domes, if she knew already that he was on the asteroid. As soon as possible, eh. 'We might as well go now, if you're able.'

'Now?' Ledvina wiped all surprise from his face when Wufei raised his eyebrows. 'Yes, sir. I'll call ahead. We can do it now.'

It was a fascinating setup, the link between the biodomes. The tunnel was obviously newly built, though it was long enough, Ledvina said, to warrant using the Jeep. The ride was smooth as glass over the plastic tarmac, about a half a kilometre from the dome where his shuttle still orbited. He suffered some disorientation in the tunnel, which was open to the great blackness over their heads. There were no stars in sight, nothing at all. Just empty, oppressive vacuum, an inch or two beyond the fragile man-made environment.

He was escorted by an all-female trio of Preventers through a compound identical to the one he'd just left. Small groups of women prisoners stared as he passed, but most were headed to the mess for breakfast, and none lingered over him. The only remarkable sight was the number of unfinished buildings; his escort explained that they never had a great enough population of female prisoners to justify the expense. There was, in fact, only one prisoner barrack in use, and it was to that one that he was marched. Privacy screens added an air of gentility to the bunks, and the aisle, he couldn't help but notice, was considerably cleaner than in the men's barracks he had toured. But it wasn't the barrack itself that was his final destination. His escort brought him all the way down the aisle to the door opposite the one they'd entered by, and he was passed through it into a lightless closet-sized room. No; as his eyes adjusted, he saw it was not a room at all, but a kind of antechamber, a little few steps of space between one door and the next, stacked with brooms and cleaners and buckets. But the women parted to either side of him, and the one in front rapped gently on the new door.

'Miss Barton,' she called, looking back at Wufei.

'Enter,' answered a voice within. The Preventers stepped back for him, and Wufei stepped forward. He depressed the latch, and went in.

His first thought was that he'd been brought to the wrong room. The woman who stood to greet him could not possibly be Mariemaia Barton. Woman. Yes, she was. Somehow he had never imagined her grown. But in the flesh she was a woman of nearly twenty-six years, and she was only a few centimetres shy of Wufei's height, if that. Her slim oval face was cool, her mouth pale, but her ginger hair was still as bright as the man's who was supposedly her father. It fell in a thick braid down her back, soft wisps framing her high cheeks to either side. Her wide blue eyes were forthrightly level to his.

'Captain Chang,' she said, and even her voice was a woman's voice, a rich commanding alto that would have brought admiring men to her slender hand, if she had been free.

As it was, Chang Wufei could only press her fingers with the care he would have given to dismantling a bomb. His voice emerged suddenly hoarse; he felt as though he couldn't quite catch his breath. 'I didn't think you would remember me,' he answered.

She wore her coverall as if it were a regal ball gown. It smoothed beneath the sweep of her palms, ironed to flawless lines.

'I don't,' she said, and, despite himself, Wufei was crestfallen. She said, 'I asked you to come because there's something here for you to see.'

'Your note,' he recalled stiffly. 'Is there something urgent? Are you not well cared for?'

'Even if I needed a white knight,' she said, 'I would not choose you.' He clenched his jaw, but she was already ignoring him. She turned her back to him, with no more to say, and sat at a little vanity rigged of paired metal file cabinets, a plank of plastic, and a small mirror. A two-setting tea service and a steaming pot of water occupied the left hand. She poured a cup, and sat sipping as she opened a paper volume and began to write in it.

Feng-hsien, he thought, some long-buried memory that leapt right to the fore. It was her long bright hair, her back to him; the imperial, casual rudeness of a girl born to rule. But it wasn't the story of the magic mirror with the unchanging princess trapped inside. Mariemaia had been twenty years in this place, while the rest of the universe went on without her, and in that single dismissive sentence she as much as declared she didn't miss it. Then, too, he was hardly like the hero Liu, watching his lover in the mirror and dreaming of their future union. He'd forgotten her, until he stood before her again, remembering what it was like to see her father in her face, to wonder if this was what atonement felt like. It was no fairy tale for either of them.

In the silence he was at last able to drop his eyes from her, to look about her cell. Slowly, he became aware that her room was as private as it had seemed from the outside. There were no windows, no way for her to be interrupted by staff except at the door, as he had done. Though the comforts of her little cell were spartan, it was nonetheless an extraordinary measure accorded to any prisoner. But it was Mariemaia Barton, and coupled with the noticeable deference of the Preventers staff, it struck him with a shiver of crawling uneasiness. She'd been given other amenities, a chessboard of much greater quality than the one used by Diesel and Lida Ren; a small two-seat, pre-fab couch of foam and thin cotton covers; a pretty quilt on the bed, which was not a cot or a bunk but a real frame bed, albeit with the same plastic mattress Wufei had slept on. There was even a rug beneath his feet, the kind of hand-made craft made of leftover bits, worn with age, but adding warmth to an otherwise textureless existence.

And in looking at all these things, it was in precisely the same moment that he registered the second cup of the tea service was missing that he realised he was being watched. And not by her.

Duo was leaning against the wall in the corner to his right.

Wufei embarrassed himself with a sharp breath. Mariemaia's pencil scratched, then resumed.

'Morning,' Duo said. He took a half-step forward, to lay his cup by Mariemaia's elbow. She moved it to the other side without looking at it, and Duo paid no special attention to her, either. He said, 'Sorry about last night. Things-- got a little ahead of me.'

The pencil went still again. Wufei knew why. In reach of the lamplight, Duo's blacked eye and split lip were visible.

'Who,' Wufei said.

'Who what?' Duo shrugged him off. 'Thanks for the tea, Miss Barton. We'll be going.'

Her head stayed bent over her work, whatever it is. A diary, Wufei thought darkly, or a manifesto. But then he saw her fist clench to white knuckles, to hide a tremble. 'As always,' she answered to her pages, 'you're welcome.'

Outside her room, Wufei felt as though he were emerging from sleep. He looked behind him, but one of the Preventer women had already closed the door, and they moved him along no less insistently than before. They were not, he noted, surprised to see Duo. He had come with permission. Perhaps the night before, even.

When he'd gone off to meet Bourque. For 'check-in'. Another 'quarantine'?

Well, Duo wanted them to know he was sincere. So he didn't lower his voice, didn't pretend not to be angry, didn't pretend to know the rules to yet one more game Duo danced him into playing. He said, 'Tell me who did that you.'

'The sink and the floor,' Duo answered. 'I've already asked around. You can talk to the women, if you want. There's a few who want to talk to you.'

'This isn't L2! This was supposed to stop, Duo!'

One of the officers glanced back at his outburst. Duo didn't. Wufei made a grab for Duo's elbow, but Duo dodged him. 'They will get over it,' Duo hissed. 'It just takes time.'

'And if I file a report? What then? What if I just tell them everything--'

'Don't.' It was Duo who gripped him, then. 'Don't. You will not make anything better for me by putting my name in a report.'

'Then what the hell am I doing here!'

'Fixing it for the ones who can benefit.' Duo glanced tightly at their escort, then shuffled Wufei backward into the shelter of a half-finished barrack. The women gave them a berth that would satisfy as privacy, if they whispered. Duo did, holding him by the shoulder and then chin and speaking very, very quietly, so that Wufei almost strained to hear him. 'You need to write this on your forehead until you can think it in your sleep,' Duo breathed at him. 'I am never leaving here. I am never leaving here, Wufei, I will die here, and that's the way it should be.'

'No.' Duo covered his mouth, but he shoved Duo's hand aside. 'No. This is like you pushing to leave L2, trying to leave Earth without me. Why do you-- why--'

'I could have milked it, found a way to drag it out. The ending was always going to be the same. What was the point in delaying?'

'Something might have changed, might have--'

'It still might. In a few years. Five, or ten. When people start to forget why it was so important to keep us here. But it's not going to change for me. Why do you keep expecting me to be angry and bitter?'

The women were watching them. Duo's hand on his cheek was cold. 'They took your life away,' he said.

'No, Wufei,' Duo corrected him softly. 'I gave it away.'

He closed his eyes.

'Now shape up. Calm down. We're going to get breakfast, we're going to talk to a few more people, and tomorrow you're going to get back on your ship and go home and live a long and wonderful life. And if you need the motivation, you can do it for me. Because I want you to. Because you deserve it and it would make me happy, Wufei, to know you're out there happy, too.'

He couldn't stop fighting it. He couldn't stop the words pouring off his tongue. 'What about Mariemaia? Is it right for her to live the rest of her life here? You don't call that wrong?'

'You know we're here for all the right reasons.' Duo squeezed his shoulder. 'And you know what? I'm as proud of that as I am of what I did to get here. I helped make this place. I helped make a world that holds me responsible for what I did. That never happened when I was a kid. I fought a war for it. I would do it again. That's something worth a life, isn't it? That's real justice. I broke the law. And I'll serve my time because I believe there should be consequences. Even when I quibble with the administration.'

This was what they had avoided in the shuttle. He knew what it was-- not a philosophical declaration, not an argument meant to persuade him. It was a good-bye.

'So that's it, then.' He was too dry to swallow. 'I go home. I write a few reports. I forget about you.'

'Maybe not forget.' The tremor in Duo's voice made him look up. 'But promise me, okay? You've got to go live that wonderful life. So promise already.' Duo's smile was weak, his eyes red. 'I'm hungry over here.'

His throat burned dully. 'How can I leave you here, Duo.'

'You press the gas pedal and you aim at Earth.' Duo licked his lips. 'Wufei. Promise me.'

'Oh, Duo.' He wiped his own eyes first, then Duo's. He wrapped his arm over Duo's shoulders, brought him close. He held Duo tightly, just held him, cementing the feel of it in his mind. He fought the last moments of panic back. There was no more time for denial. No more chances for last-minute reprieves, surprise rescues. It was time to accept what he'd known going in.

'I promise,' he whispered.


	16. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _From the outside it was so hard to see the good-- on all of L2 it was like that. He had seen the dirt and the blood and the need and the rage-- but the good, that required more work. It was harder to see the Toms, who had been there unquestioning when he had needed a kind touch. The Cloudwalkers, who knew it was hard and knew they wouldn't ever win and kept plugging away anyhow. The Duos, who looked into the worst and said the good was still worth it. Even the Bren Keawes, whose rise to the top had corrupted what had probably once been a genuine yearning to save a place and a people they loved._

'More water?' Bourque asked him.

'No,' Wufei demurred. He sawed his knife against stubborn fibres of the smoked brisket, detaching chunks of the over-salted beef to mix with the liquidy mash beside it. He was undecided if he was being served the best on offer, or if he'd been given second-rate food as a test of some sort. Certainly Bourque's apartment-like suite held considerable, if patchwork, comforts. And a bottle of whiskey had joined them on the table, a very good bottle, which argued Bourque had access to finer sources than their dinner allowed. But he made no protests, and he ate what he was given.

His host was a plain man, as Duo had said, with plain appetites. His short-shorn hair was inky black and his olive skin was sallow, so far from the sun, and otherwise unremarkable. But Wufei was in no doubt that Bourque was intelligent, and calculating. And the plasters on the right-hand knuckles were just a little too easily on display. Wufei was now sure that Bourque was responsible for Duo's condition. He had not said anything about that, either. They ate almost entirely in silence.

When their plates were empty, they were collected by the young private who had waited on them sullenly. He rolled a covered cart with their trays to the door, refreshed their glasses a final time, and left them. Bourque sat back in his plastic chair, linking his hands over his belly. He said, 'I hear you met our Peerless. Piece of work, isn't he. Like talking to a conceited brick wall.'

Innocuous enough, but letting Wufei know he had his ear to every detail. Wufei gave him no ground. He only nodded, and sipped his water.

'Do you feel you have sufficient data for your report? You conducted no formal interviews. Maxwell said you wanted to talk to people.'

'It is sufficient,' Wufei said.

Bourque smoothed his thick moustache. 'May I enquire if your review is positive?'

'I'll be sure to CC a copy to you, when I submit it.'

A flicker of hate slipped through the man's hard gaze. He buried it by reaching for the whiskey. He uncorked the bottle and poured himself two fingerlenths in the small snifter that sat at his left. He filled Wufei's, as well, a splash that left a copper-coloured sheen on the plastic. He toasted without a word, and drank it down with one swallow.

Wufei didn't drink right away. He swirled the alcohol in the glass, gazing down at the slow eddy of it. He said, 'Tell me, Lieutenant. How did you come to be stationed here?'

'I fought in nineteen separate engagements in the AFR sector.' Bourque's chest puffed; but then he reached for the bottle again. 'They wanted staff with discipline.'

OZ. Or Federation, perhaps; he was old enough to have missed the formation of the Specials, the unit that had eventually overthrown its own mother-organisation. Preventers had subsumed many different sects. Not always agreeably.

'The warden is still ill?' Wufei asked politely.

'Waiting it out for retirement,' Bourque said, 'sir.'

That was the lead-in he'd wanted. He leant back, too, arranging himself into a casual slouch, the drink cradled between his hands, still untouched. 'It is within my purview to suggest likely promotions, based on observed merit. You've been stationed here for fourteen years without a single reprimand. How is that you've never reached First Lieutenant even? It's practically an automatic promotion.'

Bourque smiled tightly, a grimace that flattened his lips. 'Out of sight, out of mind.'

'An injustice,' Wufei pronounced blandly. 'And I note that many of the staff are in similar situations.'

Bourque was starting to get suspicious of him. The dark eyes narrowed. He drank the rest of his second glass.

Wufei took the first sip of his. It was raw and tasted of iodine; he barely wet his lips with it. He said, 'Such a dismal post. I can hardly wait to leave it. I can't imagine how oppressive it must feel, to have been trapped so long here.'

'I have no complaints, sir.'

'No, of course not.' Wufei waved him off. 'Merely an observation.'

Their staring match was brief. Bourque poured himself a third glass.

'Too much neglect,' Wufei said finally. 'I think it's time to rectify this situation. A posting Earth-side would do you good. Fresh air. A little reality again, after the darkness and isolation here.'

'Sir, I--'

'In fact, I think I know exactly the place. A friend of mine is Commander there. She runs a tight ship. A man who understands discipline would be just the right fit.' He inclined his glass. 'I'll pass your name to Commander Po. She has an eye for character. She'll know exactly how to use your unique talents.' He smiled. 'An equitable solution, I think. We all benefit.'

Bourque swallowed thickly, his jaw clenched so tightly that muscles jumped in each cheek. 'Thank you, sir,' he grated, and poured again.

'Sally?' Duo repeated, as Wufei told him. 'Sally and Bourque?' He whistled. 'That's got explosive potential.'

'I'm rather proud of it, myself.'

'The first time he cusses her out she'll throw him in the brig.' Duo's eyes widened. 'Oh,' he said. 'Oh, you sly dog.'

'It gets him out of here without disruption or scandal, and it might provide him with a little needed perspective, as well.' He rolled his spare shirt and pushed it to the bottom of his bag. Duo offered him his socks, also balled, and he added those next. 'Did I do all right?'

'Yeah,' Duo said. 'Not half bad. I never would have thought of that in a million years. Promoting the fucker out of here.' He shook his head, with a soft exhale of laughter. 'He'll hate it, you know. Even without Sally on his ass. He's had his own little pond to swim in, here.'

'Sometimes bureaucracies do a little good.' He slipped in his trousers, his tie, and his bag of toiletries, and pulled the duffel closed. 'Do you think Ledvina would be a competent replacement? He seems earnest enough.'

'Lech? Yeah.' Duo nodded slowly. 'Yeah, he might do. He's tough, but he's a good guy. He'd do it right.'

'I'll be recommending other changes. Maybe with new staff, they can be implemented easily.' There was nothing more to pack. He was due to launch back to his ship; he and Jaya would have a quiet return to Near-Space, to the out-lying MO stations. He did not relish it. He questioned himself constantly, in fact. He felt as though his meter for right and wrong had broken, and he no longer knew for certain if he was part of the problem, or the solution.

'Sounds good,' Duo said. 'I knew you'd catch all the slack around here.'

'Duo, I...'

'Don't start that again.' Duo stood from his cot, sliding his hands into his pockets. 'I hate the G-word. We've already done the teary bit, anyway.'

'You have no sense of occasion.'

Duo's eyes crinkled in a warm smile. 'Things'll be okay,' he said. 'You know that.'

But they could be better. He would always have that hanging on him. Right and wrong, masquerading as the same thing. A prison for guiltless criminals. A prison waiting for himself, in Brussels, though it would be a gilded cage.

'You're frowning. Your face is gonna stick that way.' Duo leaned to him, and Wufei closed his eyes at the touch of Duo's lips, gentle on Wufei's flesh. It lingered only for the space of a breath. 'Go on home, Wufei,' Duo said.

He nodded through the awful tightness of his throat. 'Thank you. For everything you did for us. For me.'

'I'm glad I could help.'

He pushed his door open. Ledvina waited for him outside, looking up as he emerged. 'I'm ready,' Wufei told him, shouldering his bag. He gestured Ledvina to walk before him, and followed him out into the compound one final time. When he turned back over his shoulder, he saw Duo, leaning in the doorway with his arms hugged to his chest. Duo lifted a hand for him, a small, forlorn-seeming gesture. But it was Duo who disappeared first, ducking away and striding off between the buildings. Duo didn't look back.

Wufei found his breath was shaky. He faced forward. It was enough to do, putting one foot in front of the other. It kept the thinking at bay.

 

**

 

'We've had a hit on the grade of bio-plastique we used in the neuro-implant,' Quatre said. 'A large-quantity order put in by a front-company. We're tracking the shipment to see where it goes.'

'So Keawe made his move.'

'I don't think there's any worry about Keawe making any moves.' Quatre finished writing his note, and set his pad of paper aside. 'Can you get back up to L2 and check into a few names for us?'

'Of course.'

'Oh, I meant to clarify with you. One of those ridiculous miscommunications-- apparently you put in a requisition for pool cues and balls? The quartermaster thought it was a mistake, but no-one could reach you while you were on MO3. It got kicked all the way up the chain.'

'It's not a mistake. And a rack.'

'Excuse me?'

'Pool cues, balls, and a rack.'

Quatre's eyebrows rose. 'All right,' was all he said, though. 'I'll make sure it goes through. Are you feeling poorly? You've barely said two unsolicited words.'

He passed it off as tiredness with a vague shrug. 'I'll check in on the rebuilding on L2 while I'm there. Has Parliament dispensed any of the funds yet?'

'They're dragging on the question of how to enforce compliance measures. I think there's been patchy distribution.'

He was distracted by the noise of a door opening and shutting, and turned to look out the transparent glass wall behind him that faced the hall. 'What's going on in Une's office?' he asked. Yet another group was entering, cramming through the door past a pair trying to leave. He recognised some of the faces, but the majority had been civilians, some in regional costume that suggested they were attached to Brussels' many embassies. His assistant Jaya was still hovering out there, too, though he had repeatedly told her she could go where she pleased until he called for her. 'Is this all to do with Section VI?'

'Not Section VI, no.' Quatre's computer beeped again; he'd been receiving instant-sends at least as frequently as Une was guests. He typed a quick answer and fell back in his chair with a sigh. 'This isn't widely known, or even informally announced. She's retiring.'

Wufei was shocked. 'Retiring? She's the face of Preventers-- from the very origins.'

'Yes, and a controversial face she's been. Two decades of political scandals, the Justice hearings back in 205, and now the protest riots. It's enough to exhaust anyone.'

He could hardly wrap his mind around it. Une was more than their representative, she was, essentially, their creator. Untold numbers of decisions made by her had informed the very brand of Preventers, from their utilitarian uniforms, their weapons policy, their recruitment standards, their new Academy. In the process, Une had largely divorced herself from her own identity as the feared Colonel of OZ. Une was in a select league of people who had radically affected the course of history. And she was not yet fifty.

'I suppose it makes sense,' he mused. 'I thought, in our last encounters, that she was acting strange.'

Quatre quirked his lips in a smirk. 'Strange? Strange for Une, or strange for anyone?'

'Letting the Council take the lead.' That didn't quite describe it, but he didn't know how else to say it. 'She's been almost-- nice,' he added. 'I thought it was all some sort of subversive code.'

'Maybe not a code, but probably quite intentional, knowing our Lady.' Another beep. Quatre glanced at his screen, but let it pass unanswered. 'If you ask me, it's an ambush. I think she's lulling the louder blow-hards into false security. Let them air themselves out, then slap them with a gift-wrapped succession that passes all of them over.'

'Can she do that? Choose a successor, I mean.'

'She can make a recommendation. Under the re-organisation it's a Presidential appointment, though once confirmed it's a life appointment.'

'Problematic, if we get stuck with one of those blow-hards.'

'Extremely problematic. It's high on my list for changes, when we re-Charter in three years.'

'Who will she nominate? Do you know?' There were plenty of possibilities. Duo, he thought dully, probably knew them all better than Wufei did. He would have delighted in the speculation. Any of the Council, of course. There were field agents who had long and distinguished careers, of course, and regional heads who, like Cloudwalker, were of lower rank but who had the managerial background to run a top-heavy, unwieldy organisation like Preventers.

Quatre answered a particularly insistent beep, his fingers flying over the keyboard in a lengthy response. 'Me,' he said.

Ah. So yet another piece was falling into place. The last echoes of the riots were slow to settle, even on Earth where there had been considerably less damage. A nasty, public confirmation hearing in that environment could be a match to gasoline. Unless Une picked a man who could be counted on to follow her footsteps, a man who'd just finished orchestrating a black op that could determine the balance of power in Space for decades to come.

'Then it is related,' he murmured, dropping his eyes to the files piled on his lap. 'L2. Bringing Duo in-- the implant. Your chance to move in. Prove yourself.'

'It wasn't so Machiavellian.' Quatre clenched his fists. 'Preventers are in danger, Wufei. In danger of being uprooted, swept into General Services Administration, put entirely under Defence Committee and Foreign Affairs. That's if we're not disbanded. It's been threatened. And if it gets ugly enough, they might have the votes. As it is, DCFA just saw us make a good win. We saved lives, we did it quietly, and when the times comes if we don't bungle it getting Keawe dealt with, we may even be able to get our Charter renewed with a majority.'

'And what about the lives we did lose? What about the promises and the deals and the--'

'You think that hasn't been part of it from the very beginning? Une lasted twenty years fighting the dirtiest battles you can imagine with people who were happy to have our services for exactly as long as it was their shop in danger.'

'And you admire that? This is the choice you make, to play exactly the same games she has?'

'Yes. Because the Sphere still needs Preventers. We proved that, during the riots. What you did in the colonies couldn't have been done without our resources, our training, our dedication. Without us, there's no wall to stop the chaos. Look.' He put out a hand to stop Wufei shaking his head. 'Think what you want about my motivation. And think what you want about me as a person, but at least do it with your eyes open.'

'You think I'm so blind I see nothing?' Wufei demanded. 'So trusting I never question?'

'I wouldn't have you up for my post if I thought you were. But if you think you'll never have to play the game, Wufei, you're up for a lot of frustration.'

He was already hot in the head, feeling a spike in adrenaline and blood pressure both. He made himself stay silent for the length of unscrewing the cap of his thermos, taking five swallows of his tea. Quatre's phone rang, and clicked to voicemail when he ignored it.

'Do you need time off?' Quatre asked him finally. 'In all honesty. I understand-- that what you went through with Duo had to hurt. If you need the time, I'll find a way for you.'

'No.' He played with the cap. 'I'm capable of meeting my obligations. You don't have to cover me.'

'I'm not Une,' Quatre said. 'I think Preventers would be a little better if we helped each other a little more.'

Just when he found himself resenting his old friend, Quatre reminded him of those easier days when they truly had been friends, before this distance, before this mission. Quatre had always cared about things like that. And it was gratifying to hear him say the words, even if that newly cynical side of himself wondered how Quatre could even expect to carry through. Events wouldn't wait on Wufei catching up on his sleep.

'I'll let you know how it goes on L2,' he said. He levered to his feet. 'And I suppose I'll start apartment hunting.'

'I'm happy to help, if you want it.'

'I'll take you up on it.' He managed a smile. 'Good-bye.'

'Wufei... I've been proud of you, these past months. Not just professionally. All your choices have been honourable.'

He wasn't even sure it mattered. They were choices made in a vacuum. But he nodded, and he left.

 

**

 

Cloudwalker met them at the port with a car. Amused, Wufei said, 'We could well have taken a cab.'

'The way you disappear at the drop of a hat? At least in a company car I can keep track of you.' Cloudwalker shook Jaya's tiny hand gruffly, and tossed her large suitcase into the boot as if it weighed nothing.

'Something up?' Wufei asked.

'Nothing urgent, but we've got a lot of good news and one piece of seriously bad news.' Cloudwalker loaded Wufei's now slightly fraying travel duffel, and they boarded the car, the two men in front, Jaya in back busily readying her notepad to annotate every comment they made. 'Which do you want first?'

'Good,' Wufei decided. 'It gives me time to brace myself.'

Cloudwalker made a noise of dour agreement. 'The good news is that we've got gang activity under control finally. We don't have a total body count, but current estimate is triple digits. Some of the smaller affiliations might have been totally wiped out.'

'Triple digits is good news?'

'It is when you consider there's that fewer gang bangers left for the cartels to draw on, next time. And add in that there doesn't seem to have been any material gain from the rioting, and I'd say letting the enemy thin themselves out isn't a bad day's haul.'

Wufei grudgingly agreed. It didn't make it less of a tragedy-- but it wasn't an edge he'd hand back, either. 'What else?'

'This might soothe your conscience. We have a whistle-blower in the Police Bureau. We know which officers killed the Nines on St Mary's. And we know which officers tried to help along the killing during the riots. We've got enough to go in and clean house. It may not change the Least in the long-run, but maybe it'll take one more peg out of play.'

'If you tell me you've uprooted all the foreign spies, I'll go home on the next flight out,' Wufei said.

'Don't buy your ticket just yet. We have intel about a sleeper cell of Jordanians. One of their outliers turned up dead in the confusion of the protests. His apartment was loaded with high-end cocaine. And cash. We're trying to trace it, but Forensics is backed up a year, and everything is a Priority Red these days. But, on the upside, it's more than we had before Maxwell waved his magic wand.'

It was a dull twinge. Duo's name, that was all it was. Wufei did his best to ignore it. He'd learnt to live with it once before, after all. The day would come when it didn't hurt to hear. 'There was bad news?' he said.

'Keawe's demanding a public apology for bringing mobile suits on colony without consulting Parliament. He's been on every talk-show that'll have him, and there's none that won't, after the protests. Things had actually calmed down, before he started flogging that horse. There's enough suspicion and anti-government feeling left over from Section VI to keep it alive.'

'Like hell we'd consult Parliament,' Wufei said.

'The common man doesn't know we don't have to.'

Maybe Quatre could add an education campaign to his list. 'Is this apology notion being endorsed at all?'

'Two major outlets and one print mag. The wingnuts on the right and the left. The CFP is rattling around, but they make even less sense than usual.'

'The CFP?' Jaya asked, from behind.

'The Charterers First Party,' Wufei explained shortly. The CFP were terminal claimants of racial wounds, forever lamenting that the largely white Charterers of the Colony Project had been so overrun with middle-class and poor minorities. Once in a while they managed to seat a Representative at Parliament, but they were, as Cloudwalker said, largely disorganised and under-funded. Why they flattered Bren Keawe's claims about anything really was nonsense, at that. He was hardly their usual sort of frontman.

'We've been going “no comment” all the route, but it's getting a lot of coverage,' Cloudwalker went on. 'A lot of misinformation and a lot less vindication than when we were saving their asses.'

'That's always the way.' They left the port tunnel for a surface street and merged into traffic headed down-town. 'Is Keawe still claiming he was poisoned?'

'Oh, yes. And demanding the assassin be hunted down. Another conspiracy he claims Preventers are covering up.'

'It's a wonder we have time to eat.' He rolled his stiff shoulders. 'You have put out that you arrested the Resistance pair who murdered Senator Milchect?'

'I held a press conference, but I'm not as persuasive as Keawe.'

Reluctantly, Wufei said, 'I'll do what I can to take some of the heat off you. I should be able to get interviews with the networks. That will drag it further up the command chain. It was mostly my doing anyway, all the things that have them riled up.'

'Sacrificial lamb is a good look on you.'

'Ha,' Wufei said sourly.

And that was how he spent his next several days. A few calls became a flood, when his first interview stole prime-time ratings. Never comfortable with the camera, he nonetheless agreed to full hour segments, call-in sessions, and even authorised a rush de-classification of the newly released Riot Review Pre-Report, which drew conciliatory focus to the lives lost within Preventers' ranks. He made a point of speaking of them, determined to keep a human face on Preventers in the public imagination. Some of the interviews were hostile, others more respectful, but time after time he had to account for his decision to bring mobile suits onto L2. He began to question his own logic, after repeating it by rote again and again. In the end, he was only left to say, 'The fact remains. We saved lives that would have been lost. If a mobile suit is the difference between colonial lives and colonial body counts, then I can no more hesitate to use it than I would any weapon in a war.'

That quote went down brilliantly.

They had a new hotel, not the one he and Duo had occupied so long. He slept odd hours, to accommodate the necessary frenzy of activity at Preventers HQ, and for once the budget accommodated separate rooms for he and Jaya, so they didn't disturb each other coming or going. He checked his messages every night, at whatever hour he got in, though mail was all routed to HQ and he confined most of his phone traffic to a mobile devoted to press contacts. He got all the local papers, though, and now he read them with a dedication he'd never had before. He was starting to figure it out, he thought. He knew which op-eds were the ones that would stir up the most trouble, knew which sectors reported favourably of Preventers, could even guess the most likely candidates to be the 'anonymous sources' from the administration. And he knew that Keawe was climbing the polls despite his efforts, but that he was winning the independents and the lowest class, the people whose lives had been most in danger when the gangs had started their killing sprees in the city.

He wished Duo was with him. He thought Duo would appreciate it.

He crashed in bed every night exhausted, a condition he told himself to get used to. There was so much paperwork. So many calls to make. So much research. And he was still writing his report on his tour of the prisons, and he was still writing his report on the riots from before that, and on Quatre's advice he was rewriting his resumé to include his recent experiences and theoretically advanced skill set. Yet when he grew too fuzzy after hours of intensive concentration, he found himself laying back, staring at the ceiling, and fidgeting with the hotel phone, fingering the number he itched to dial.

He had meant to visit her. If it was possible. They had left it open, certainly, and he had said he would, though there hadn't been time between the clean-up after the protests and leaving for Earth to pick up Duo. And that had become an eight-week trek through Space. Surely by now she would think-- he hadn't meant it. He was not sure he could say he had. He had liked her-- but after Duo... Duo who had called him neutered and tried at every opportunity to push him at Tom.

He had concocted that story for Duo, about going to meet her at the restaurant, sweeping in to kiss her. He thought of it more seriously now. Stopping in, maybe early in the morning so that if she was too busy she wouldn't have time to spend telling him to go away. He could see if she'd been refunded the damage, at least. If she wasn't too angry at him, they could talk. And he did want to be sure she was well.

He'd been on L2 a week when he finally made the call. His heart pounded crazily as he pressed the numbers in, and just before he let it ring he suffered a moment of pure panic. He jabbed the button, held his breath, and put the phone to his ear.

Four rings, an eternity. Just when he would have hung up, a sleepy voice answered. The sound of her triggered an involuntary shiver over his scalp, a flash of heat up his chest. _'Hello?'_ she murmured. _'Who is it?'_

He wet his lips. 'Wufei. Agent-- Captain Chang.'

A long silence after made him doubt the wisdom of calling after all. It was not so terribly late, only a little past midnight. Or was it her reluctance to speak to him at all, given his long absence?

What she finally said surprised him. _'I was going to mail you in the morning,'_ she whispered. _'I saw you on the news.'_

'I don't know how long I'm on colony.' He winced as it left his tongue. It was not a good argument for her tolerance. 'I hoped I could-- drop by, see you.'

_'I don't--'_ She sighed softly. He heard a rustle of fabric, the click of what might be a lamp coming on. He imagined her propped in her bed, hair a silky muss, the blankets held tightly to her cheek.

'Duo's gone,' he said. 'I took him back-- there. He—'

_'Wufei.'_ She sighed again, barely a breath. _'Come over now.'_

'It wasn't my intention to disturb you.'

_'Just come. There's something I need to tell you, anyway.'_

He had to walk the streets awhile before he found a cab, but the ride was short enough, the driver too weary to speak to him. Wufei was let out at the kerb, and had barely mounted the steps when she opened the door for him. She had dressed, slim dark jeans with holes at the knee, a thick worn jumper that covered her small hands and her pale neck. Her eyes slid away from his, as he passed her to the stairs. He watched her lock up behind him, and let her climb before him.

There was, he noted, a new-looking window on the second storey, and the door had seemed new, too. But he didn't remember enough of the arrangement of her home to tell if looters had made it inside. He hoped not. The air of private sanctuary that had welcomed him before seemed too fragile to bear that thought.

He stopped at the edge of the den where they had eaten together, the night after Keawe's attack on Duo. She went in further than he, picking up a golden cushion to wrap in her arms, tucking her bare feet beneath her as she sat on the futon.

'Your restaurant?' he asked her.

'They smashed up the front room pretty well,' she answered. She picked at the cushion's beaded hem. 'Insurance covered some. I put in for the Rescue Package. Too early to know yet. I had some savings. Enough to reopen, for a while at least.'

He knew nothing of economic things like that, accounts and plans and book-keeping. His salary went to rent and food, and Preventers took care of the rest. He thought it answered for the tense new lines of worry on her face.

'I'm sorry for the loss,' he said inanely.

Her jagged shrug was his reply. He ventured closer, to the edge of the rug under the futon that ran like a border wall blocking him out. 'Are you still angry at me for having you dragged out during the protests?'

'Not more than before, anyway.' She flicked a finger at the open space on the couch. 'You can sit.'

He did, easing down gingerly. 'You seem angry with me.'

She looked away. 'No, Wufei.' She hugged her pillow closer. 'You said Duo went back? But he was all right?'

'Walking without a crutch. He mixes words when he's angry, but he mostly seems angry with me, too. He... he says he'll be all right, there.'

'I guess I never thought how bad he could have made it. What he did all those years ago, I mean. It could have looked like the Section VI riots. Riots and shootings. Kind of a manual of restraint, he was then, if you think about it.'

Keawe had disregarded too many of Duo's lessons. Like character. Duo had known in excruciating detail what he risked. Keawe just wanted to be a hero. Duo had wanted to save lives. Keawe was only too willing to throw them away. 'I suppose so,' he said. 'When you compare it.'

Her chin came to rest on a tassel of ribbon. She played it through her fingers. 'You know that he was in love with you, don't you? I didn't realise. He'd never said, before. I didn't-- wasn't trying to-- make trouble between you two.'

His throat went closed. He couldn't think of good words, anyway. In the end all he came up with was, 'I think we both knew how the other felt. And-- what was going to come of it. I knew.'

'He said he thought you were better than Ben. My ex.'

'Your ex-husband.'

'Policeman. Duo never gave him a chance.' Tom chewed her lip; then she waved it off. 'Never mind. I-- I wanted--'

'You said you had something to tell me. To mail me?'

'Yes.' He saw her swallow. She reached down to the little table at their feet, and came back with an envelope. She extended it to him.

It held a letter, tri-folded around printed photographs. He opened it, holding the pictures up to the lamplight. 'What are these--'

'I don't want anything from you,' she said abruptly. 'I just thought it was right to tell you. But I've got the restaurant, and if it closes, I'll find something else. I'm not asking for anything.'

He looked between the pictures and her drawn face, distracted by her words, not comprehending. The pictures were an odd sienna-hued swirl with a pixellated bump in the centre, words printed, computer-printed, on the side. Her name, acronyms he didn't know, a date from a few weeks ago, labels--

'This is a sonogram,' he said. Thought he said. It plunged into numb deafness. He went numb all over in a single crushing wave.

'Fourteen weeks,' she said. Her eyes met his at last, defiant. 'I meant to tell you before you left, the last time. I lost my nerve.'

Fourteen weeks. He stared at the sonogram. That was a head, a body. A baby. His baby. Three pictures. The last showed an arm, he thought it was an arm, curled to an impossibly small chest. 'How?' he managed. 'We only-- the first time?'

'It happens when you don't use a damn condom.' She went dry, her hand to her mouth. 'I was on the pill. I still should have made you wear--'

He couldn't read the letter. The words blurred senselessly. 'I'll help you,' he got that out, an automatic gesture dredged up somewhere from thinking, disastrously, there would be money needed, and money he had, that she would not, not with the damage to the restaurant... 'I can-- can help at least.'

'If you feel like you have to. I'll make it alone.'

He didn't have a check book. Handing her cash-- would be too insulting. But he couldn't think what else to do.

'You have time to think about it. And, I think-- I think at some point we need to talk about-- signing some papers. I've talked to a lawyer. We should have it in writing. For both of us. Visits, if you want them. Formal custody. Or if you don't want...'

She was brushing him off. Or giving him an opening to do it himself. He swallowed, he folded the pictures into the letter again. 'I do. Want to-- to-- my job, though. I don't know-- I don't know how often I could-- we should be together. To raise the child.'

'Your job is going to be your job whether you're on L2 or Earth. But my whole life is here. I'm not giving that up. Any more than you'll give up your job.' She stood, startling him. 'You're not obligated, Wufei. We just-- made a mistake.'

He stood, too, though he wavered whether to approach her. Touch her. 'How could I not be obligated?'

'You should go.' She hugged herself, her little shoulder hunching under his palm, her cheek pale up close. 'No-- please. It's a huge surprise for you. And you should be able to think about it without me staring at you. So take your time, okay? We'll talk again. Really.'

He had crushed the edge of the letter in his fist. He smoothed it. His hands trembled. 'I'll call you tomorrow. Today. Later today.'

'It's okay, Wufei.'

He made it no further than her front steps. His legs went out from under him, and he sat there on the edge of the street. He held the sonograms, staring down at them. The ruler scale on the bottom edge showed not even four inches. The length of a finger. Barely half than the weight of one.

He had given up on the idea of children so very long ago. Without his clan, there had seemed no point. Then, of course, with Duo it had hardly been a thing to think of. His job-- Preventers had kept him so busy, there'd been no real relationships to speak of, and the occasional connections had always fizzled. It had just-- been something that other people did, not him.

Her bedroom light on the third storey went out. He heard the window slide shut.

He pushed to his feet, and he left.

A child. He had sudden wild imaginings. A little girl-- a sweet little girl who would-- or a boy, a boy like he'd been raised to believe he must produce, for his ageing, fading family line. He'd been the treasured heir, his father dead before he'd been born, his mother banished away to marry some elderly cousin where she couldn't corrupt the line. All dust now, anyway. He'd never thought-- never thought it would matter again, a child to carry on the Long Clan...

Tom was right, though. He couldn't be a present father, not as Captain Chang, Preventers Councilman. He was set to leave L2 in just days; he had no idea where he'd be asked to go next. And once he was invested into the Council, he'd be spending whole months at a time on Earth. Ask Quatre how flexibly that life could expand to include a family. Wufei had been the only setback to his own relationships, but Quatre hadn't even been on a date in a decade.

And Tom. Was she even glad? Or did she only see the pitfalls waiting? If she'd used all her savings on the restaurant, if it was a struggle to build up her business again, could she really support a child alone? She would of course have money, Wufei would send her money, and he hadn't sensed-- what little he'd managed to absorb of her reaction-- he didn't think she would turn away his support, his contribution. And he could visit, or have the child come to him on Earth. He could certainly find child care in Brussels--

His heart was already sinking. Why drag a child on that long journey, knowing he'd be working long hours, maybe even unable to take weekend breaks? Even if he had the child in his own home, how often might he be unexpectedly called away?

It was all pressing in. Too many shocks. Too much with Duo and no time to process it, this promotion he hadn't sought and was beginning to loathe before he even got it, this truly life-altering announcement from Tom. A child. It was supposed to change everything. But he had no more room for new change.

He slumped to the kerb where he stood, trying vainly to centre himself beyond the hysteria of shaken nerves. He could not even be happy. It was so great a thing, a time he should be celebrating, even in these accidental circumstances... he could not even be happy.

He couldn't go back to the hotel. It was still night-- he knew he wouldn't sleep. He couldn't bear the thought of people, of Jaya and her endless fluttering. He wanted nothing as much as a place to go where he could hide and think-- not-think. He needed quiet and-- time. There was little enough of either on L2, this damn mess of a colony where even the green zones had been corrupted with death. Another change he hadn't been able to prevent.

What was it Duo had said? Yes. Preventers were better at putting fires out than they were stopping them before they started. Duo ought to know. He'd been running circles around them for a decade now. Did Duo ever not know what to do? Did he ever falter, even for a moment?

 

There's a place I want to see, Duo said. I just needed to see it again, to be sure it's still here.

He didn't know the way, not on foot, but he found it on one of the bus maps. It took more than an hour to walk there. He was tiring, by then, but the exhaustion did what he needed and served to occupy the mind, calm the body. When he reached the fence, he felt along it for a hole, and slid carefully through to avoid snagging his uniform on the wire.

The grounds were absolutely silent. Even the hushed night noises of a colony didn't penetrate the little enclosure. He went so far as to venture to the shattered double-width doorway, where rusted hinges still hung. There was nothing left inside to identify the space as a church, if there had ever been. Duo had never spoken of it in specifics. For the first time, Wufei wished he'd asked. Had it been a good place? A peaceful place? It had turned out a man who had, at least, an unflinching faith in what he believed right and wrong to be, who would go to extraordinary lengths on behalf of that justice. They must have been good people, here. They must have made L2 a brighter place, a better place, if the Federation had been so determined to eliminate their very existence.

The dusty concrete foundation had once been laid with wooden floors, though only the edges still showed burnt pine boards. He wandered the little compound through doorless arches, with the dark solar-panel sky above the gaping ceilings making everything more ghostly, more alien. The function of most rooms had been too thoroughly erased to reconstruct by imagination. The only one he was sure of, aside from the nave built centre to the rest, was the room where the orphans had slept. Bunks had been built right into the walls, and some still remained, slats crumbling aslant to the floor. Duo had slept on one of those. It must have been a cramped and filthy sort of home, even then, all those unwanted children. That Lonny had obviously never risen above the squalor of an impoverished childhood. Wufei saw no signs of plumbing, not a single sink or spigot or even a pipe. Duo had, too casually, told a story once of fighting at his Federation school when the children mocked him for smelling badly. But he must have been like a jewel discovered in the trash bin, in a place like this. A brilliant mind that deserved grooming, a good heart. They had loved him and nourished him and he'd grown into a man who would not forget them for it.

At that age, Wufei had been sleeping on silks and learning to host banquets and bow just the right degree to the honoured elders he would one day be. He had known he was a prince above his peers, but the Dao demanded he empty his mind and weaken his will. To be a prince was to be an orphan amongst men.

He wondered which of them had been happier.

Maybe that was what Duo so desperately believed had to be preserved about this place. Not its tragic end or the lives lost in its walls. The lives lived in them. From the outside it was so hard to see the good-- on all of L2 it was like that. He had seen the dirt and the blood and the need and the rage-- but the good, that required more work. It was harder to see the Toms, who had been there unquestioning when he had needed a kind touch. The Cloudwalkers, who knew it was hard and knew they wouldn't ever win and kept plugging away anyhow. The Duos, who looked into the worst and said the good was still worth it. Even the Bren Keawes, whose rise to the top had corrupted what had probably once been a genuine yearning to save a place and a people they loved.

His child would be a part of that. But he wouldn't.

How could he leave, knowing that?

 

**

 

'Did you hear me, Chang?'

Jaya set a third cup of tea at his left hand. Wufei formed his fingers about it and lifted it to his lips; he barely tasted it. 'I'm sorry, Maquinna,' he murmured. 'What did you say?'

'I said we got in a request for you to join a panel at the Migration Policy Institute on Thursday.'

'Migration Policy? Why?'

Maquinna consulted the print he held, squinting down at it. '”Aligning Temporary Immigration Visas with L2 Labour Market Needs: The Case For Downsizing the Provisional Visa.”'

'I don't know the first thing about immigration.' Wufei rolled his head, cracking his neck from both sides. 'Fine. To whatever that is. It can be my last stop before I head back to Earth.'

'I'll get the flight scheduled, sir,' Jaya said, and stepped away with her mobile to her ear. Wufei tried not to make a face at her back.

'New legislative season starts soon,' Cloudwalker said. 'You'll be busy in Brussels.'

'Mm.' Wufei wrapped the thread of his tea bag around the tip of his finger. 'I think you sound a little jealous.'

'A little. Mostly I'm annoyed you're acting like it's such a burden.'

Now Wufei did grimace. 'You have to admit it's been a busy year so far.' He set his tea aside. 'Do you have any family?' he asked abruptly.

'Family?' Cloudwalker went stiff, or seemed to, before he grabbed for his own mobile on the table, pressing buttons with determination. 'What kind of family.'

'Children,' Wufei said, almost getting it out without a stutter. 'I mean do you have children.'

Jaya made a discreet exit; because of their conversation or because of hers, he didn't know, but he would buy her a vineyard if she stayed discreet when the time came to spread gossip about his odd behaviour. Cloudwalker eased back in his chair, creak by creak. Out the window, it lights were going off, grid by grid. It was night on the colony.

'Yes,' Cloudwalker said finally. 'A daughter.'

'A daughter.' Wufei put his elbows on the table, leant toward the other man. 'How old is she? Rather-- how old were you when she was born? You were already a Preventer?'

'I was seventeen.' Cloudwalker exhaled heavily. 'I wasn't a Preventer. Went into it that year. Wanted to support my girl.'

'And it...' It was too personal. Their not-quite friendship was not close enough to permit this. 'You didn't live with her?' he managed. 'But it worked out?'

'I see her on holidays. Most years. I guess it worked out.'

'And the mother? Are you close? You speak still?'

'What is this about?'

He couldn't yet say it. Couldn't yet even imagine a grown daughter, as Cloudwalker's would now be. A strained relationship-- almost no relationship at all. All he could imagine was that it would be unbearable. No-- worse. That it would be so entirely bearable that in time he would answer that question too with no more than resignation, just like Cloudwalker. A father in biology only. Sending money. Carrying an out-of-date photograph, perhaps, a folded sonogram in a wallet flap, until the image was stronger than the memory.

'I need to--' He was at risk of biting through his tongue, his lip. 'I need to ask you something.'

'Is this why you've been off your nut in here? You've had your head back on Earth all day.'

'Not nearly so far away.' Oh, this was hard. He'd had no idea.

'Chang. Whatever it is, spit it out.'

What would Duo have done, if it were him?

Ha. Easy, that answer. The right thing. Duo did the right thing, no matter how pigheaded, risky, idiotically diabolical it was. Hadn't Wufei just reaffirmed that for himself, at that ruined church? It said everything there was to say about Duo. He would let go if that was what it took. He would have found a way to stay.

Would have found a way to stay, if that was right.

Could it really be that easy? Was it really all down to that? Just-- do it?

Wufei suspected he knew what Duo would say.

And then-- he could breathe, then. He felt almost-- light. Right.

He said, 'Have you given Quatre Winner any names for your replacement, yet?'

Cloudwalker blinked. 'A few,' he said cautiously. 'My deputy is really too junior. There's no-one really placed to just step-in, and the salary isn't high enough to keep the best outsiders from heading to L1 or L4 instead. No-one I'm really comfortable with.'

'Then I'd like to offer you my resumé.'

Cloudwalker's shock was almost comical, but Wufei met with a vast new calm. 'You?' Cloudwalker repeated blankly. ''You're already my superior!'

'It's hardly official yet. And I can think of a candidate for Division Head who'd be far more suited to it. You.'

'Me?'

'You want it,' Wufei said simply. 'And you understand it better. The politicking and the big picture both. I may never come to that easily, and that should be enough, alone, to disqualify me. But I've come to understand this colony, haven't I? I had good teachers. Arguably the best teachers. And I could do far more here than I ever could on the Council.'

'And I could?' Cloudwalker was agitated, enough to spring to his feet to pace. 'If Winner meant to offer it to me, he would have. No-one's ever jumped that many steps in one promotion.'

'Not recently,' Wufei admitted readily. 'But every man and woman on the Council now started off as a volunteer in the early days. Any protest about ranks is almost ridiculous, when you think about it. We used to believe in merit.'

'Merit, hell.' He tugged at a thin whip of bone laced into his dark hair. 'The Council. I didn't figure I'd ever make it that high. I don't-- I don't have any experience--'

'Neither did I, until the riots here. And I may have made the ultimate decisions, but you were responsible for as much of the tactical as I was. A fact Quatre has already realised, by offering you the Coordinator position.'

'If Winner had meant to--'

'His offer had as much to do with his history with me as his assessment of L2's situation. He won't hesitate. Unless you have doubts about my fitness to replace you?'

'No,' Cloudwalker denied, distractedly waving a hand at him. 'No, my people responded well to you during the crisis. You've got the clues about what's happening on the streets, you're as up to date as you can be about our situation-- you're as prepped as I could ask. It's just--'

'What?'

Cloudwalker stared at him. 'I want to hear it from Winner,' he said. 'Before we-- you-- make any kind of maneouvres here.'

'I'll call him. Today. Now.'

'Now.' Cloudwalker scrubbed his face with his big hands. 'Now, sure. Damn.' He laughed hoarsely. 'I think I'm glad that in five minutes I'm going to have the authority to tell you to slow the hell down for once.'

'I'll even listen,' Wufei promised. 'To your face, at least.'

 

It took four hours to talk Quatre around.

Three, really. The last was spent privately on the phone with Cloudwalker, conducting an impromptu interview. The last five minutes, Cloudwalker gave the office back to Wufei, for a few final words with his friend.

_'Are you sure?'_ Quatre asked him. _'I'm troubled by this, Wufei. I just can't tell if you're-- sure.'_

'I am,' Wufei told him quietly. 'At last. I only took on this notion of a Council appointment... I felt... I thought I owed it to him.' It was harder to say than he'd thought, and he swallowed against a tightened throat. 'The burden of it terrified me. I would never have been comfortable with it. And eventually it would have impacted my ability to perform my duties.'

Quatre set his chin on his hand. _'He didn't talk you out of it?'_

'I never told him. Maybe he would have. It would have been right.'

_'But L2? You'd be happier there? It's hardly a natural fit.'_

'There are good reasons for ensuring continuity of command here. Cloudwalker and I are the only ones truly familiar with the action plan we worked out to deal with the gangs and the cartels, the foreign agents. This last week I've certainly become a known face to the local stakeholders. I've been on every broadcast. I'm accountable to the locals, and they're responding positively. Or they're willing to interact, at least. There's a level of trust.'

_'But you'd rather be on L2 than in Brussels? Or-- I don't know-- wouldn't you rather keep the Space Coordinator post? It would keep you out of the Council but it's higher than just a branch head. Wufei, this would be an actual demotion.'_

'Only technically. I was only temporarily invested as Coordinator. And field agent to branch head is unusual enough not to be shameful.'

_'I suppose I'm persuaded, then. Cloudwalker's certainly qualified. You're overqualified. And since you're at least the same people I was already going to stack posts with, I barely have to change the paperwork.'_ Quatre rubbed his eyes, then fell back in his chair. _'Just tell me one thing. You'd be happier on L2?'_

Wufei gazed at his hands. He was cold, in Cloudwalker's chilly office. His skin was pale, his fingers dry. He pressed both palms together. 'There is... something I should tell you.'

A moment later, Quatre's whoop of incredulous delight rang out so loudly that Cloudwalker poked his head back in. Flushed, Wufei grinned weakly at him.


	17. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's not perfect yet. I think it's better than it was._

He waited out the last customers with their coffee and dessert, sitting unobtrusively at the edge of the bar. His water, untouched over hours, had gone lukewarm in his hand. He had an angle on the kitchen door, and watched through the peephole window as the staff inside scrubbed down the stoves, the cutting tables, the sinks, and finally the floor. A young man emerged to hoover the carpet in the dining room. The guests made their way to the door, fulsomely good-byed by the droopy-eyed concierge. Only then, when she could no longer avoid him, did she come out to face him.

'I thought I was going to have to have you dragged out of here again,' Wufei said. 'You look good tonight.'

Tom flushed. It made her look even better. 'I smell like bolognese,' she mumbled, tugging at the sagging neck of her stained smock. 'I know I said we would talk, but you didn't have to hang around the restaurant all night.'

'I didn't mind. And the bolognese was good, too.'

'Thanks.' They met a mutual silence. When she would have spoken, though, Wufei interrupted quickly.

'Come somewhere with me,' he said. 'I know it's late. It won't take very long.'

'Go where? Wufei...' She glanced behind her, but the kitchen lights were already off and there was no rescue forthcoming from the staff. 'I should change at least. Or shower...'

'You're fine as you are. Truly.'

She heaved a deep sigh. 'All right. Let me get my keys.'

He drove, one of the Preventers cars that would soon be, Cloudwalker had promised, officially dedicated to his use as branch director. Wufei had never owned a car, and had to split most of his concentration toward driving as smoothly as possible for his passenger. For her part, Tom was quiet, her face turned a little to look out the window. She glanced back at him frequently, but asked no questions.

The night guard at the Sukhon Peace Heroes Centre let them in at the sight of his badge, and Wufei parked along the kerb before the main building. They stopped to sign the register in the lobby; Tom appended her name to his guest slot, now regarding him with equal parts caution and curiosity. In response, Wufei played it mum. He had wanted her with him for two reasons, two reasons he was more and more sure were very good ones. He guided her to the lift, and they stood together as they climbed storey after storey. They emerged to a floor lined with large, dark glass walls. Offices. Wufei walked her past four to a corner, a right turn, and then they stopped there at the only door still displaying a light within.

'This is it,' Wufei said, perhaps unnecessarily. 'It won't be very long, I think.'

'Wufei, should I really be here?'

He took her hand, squeezing it gently. 'Yes.' He raised a knuckle to the door, and knocked.

'Come,' came the distracted call, and together they entered. The man hunched over his desk inside did not immediately greet them, buried in a thick sheaf of notes and writing steadily with a scratching pen. But when he chanced to look up, he went frozen.

'Representative,' Wufei said softly.

Keawe rose slowly, gripping the edge of his desk tensely. 'Agent Scarab. Or Captain Chang, I suppose.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Didn't figure you'd be darkening my door quite so soon.' Keawe's eyes flicked to Tom. 'I don't believe I've met the lady.'

'Hilde Schbeiker,' Wufei introduced her, and let her go to take Keawe's outstretched hand for a brief press. 'I hope you don't mind the assumption. I thought we might both be on our best behaviour before an impartial witness.'

Keawe released an abrupt, surprised laugh. 'You still have a way with words, Captain.' He shook Tom's hand with more strength. 'The pleasure's all mine, Miss Schbeiker. I had the privilege of eating at your restaurant a few times. You make the meanest pork tenderloin I've ever tasted, including my tutu's, not that I'd say it to her face.'

'Family recipe,' Tom said, a ghost of a smile lifting her lips. 'You should try the Caribbean pork rice and beans, next time.'

'I will. I will, that.'

She was not shy of him. Wufei was proud. When she stepped back to Wufei's side, her head was high. If anything, it was Keawe who was shy of them, lacking his usual swagger of confidence. His wariness kept him behind the desk, but it wasn't a position of power. It made him seem smaller, unarmoured.

But confrontation and challenge was not the point, not tonight. Wufei took his turn to step forward, and laid a small disc on the papers between them. 'I've brought something I'd like you to see, Mr Keawe,' he said.

Keawe picked up the disc, turning it between two brown fingers. 'Am I supposed to guess?'

'It's a short video, sir. Only twenty minutes, not quite. If you would, I would like you to watch it now.'

Hard eyes glared into his. Wufei met them without artifice. Keawe blew out a breath through his nose, and nodded sharply. 'Sit,' he said, waving at the couch nearby. He turned his back, inserting the disc to the large flat screen. It came to life at his touch, loading slowly. Wufei and Tom took the couch. Keawe eased back into his chair, thumbing up the volume with the remote clicker. The video file opened, and began to play.

 _'—met cameras on,'_ said Wufei on the video, a second before his image resolved into focus, tilting crazily and then resettling slightly askew. _'Let's get some forensic proof of what's happening here.'_

Tom realised first what it was. She gripped his hand hard, a sharp punctuation to the frown she turned on him. Wufei shook his head, and squeezed her fingers.

The camera was moving, careening out of the van. It swept left across parkland, then right to a wooded copse, and headed in that direction. The heavy thud of footsteps and accelerated breaths were the only noise, as the time stamp in the lower corner trickled past two minutes, three, four. Keawe drilled his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Then the first shot rang out. The other two jumped. Wufei, who had lived it, let his eyes drop to his hand on Tom's. There was a fresh, fading cut on her thumb. He traced it gently.

 _'Ma'am, try to get to me!'_ Ortega shouted. _'I've got you covered. Try to get to me!'_

 _'My father's been shot,'_ a woman's voice sobbed back. _'He's bleeding. He's been shot.'_

Nearly a full round of ammo discharged, somewhere to the left. Ortega's helmet camera swung to follow the sound. A black-edged figure ducked behind a tree, then jumped backward-- or seemed to. A cloud of rapidly expelled blood sprayed behind it, and the body fell. The camera dropped to the gun Ortega had held, leaving no doubt of the origin of the bullet that had just saved lives. When it lifted, it picked shadows moving rapidly through the trees. _'I've got two gunmen in range,'_ Ortega said. _'Approaching with caution. One is masked, the other looks white or Hispanic, he's young--'_ He fired rapidly. One after the other, those bodies fell, too.

 _'Oh, God, oh God,'_ the woman's voice moaned. Her terrified face swam to centre view. _'Oh God, help us.'_ Frightened faces, the woman, middle-aged, crying over her elderly father. Ortega gathered them with firm, kind commands, agreed to help them search for the rest of their clan. They crept slowly to the edge of the tree line. Two men, then a third, civilians. _'I'm a Preventer,'_ Ortega told each of them. _'I'm here to help you. We're going to get you to safety, all right? Just follow me, folks.'_

And then the fatal confrontation. Shots from behind. The camera whirled away from shock and fear, following the upswing of a rifle that discharged heavy rounds behind them into the woods. Running-- fleeing. The backs of the family, the unprotected hillside where they were suddenly, unavoidably, targeted. The camera went to knee-height. Ortega fired again and again and again to that phone booth, to the sneering, twisted snarls of the boys inside it. There was Wufei again, recognisable only by the red armband he had worn to denote his rank, firing on the booth from the opposite hilltop. Then a sickening impact. The camera sprawled back, splashed with scarlet. Fizzling blue light streaked past the lense. Smoke. Screams.

 _'No,'_ Wufei whispered. _'Ortega. Do you-- Ortega-- no.'_ Through the smears of red there appeared his face, wild-eyed, starkly white. Then the camera tumbled away, rolled into the grass.

'His name was DeAngelo Ortega,' Wufei said then. 'I thought you needed to know who he was.'

'Captain.' Keawe turned off the screen, but he lingered on the remote. 'I don't--'

'He was born on your satellite. Prince George's. He lived only four blocks from you, actually. You probably went to the same school. You would have liked him. He was as honest as they come.'

'I don't know what you want from me.'

'No? Watch it again.'

'Captain.' Keawe swung about to face him. 'I'm sorry for your agent. Is that what you want me to say? That it was a tragedy?'

'I know better than you what it was. I was there.' Wufei stood. Tom joined him, sneaking her hand into his again. 'And I'll be here,' Wufei added. 'For a long time. Where I will keep trying to get through to you. Someday, you might let me. But I will keep trying for as long as it takes.'

Muscles in Keawe's face jumped as he clenched his jaw. He stared down at the remote in his fist. He made to put it down, and didn't.

'Keep the disc,' Wufei said. 'I hope you will think about it. My office is just up the road, if you ever want to talk.'

'Captain—'

'Wufei.'

Keawe's eyes came to his face again. Troubled, Wufei was very glad to see. It wasn't quite reason for hope, not yet. But it was a start.

'Good night, Bren,' Wufei told him, and walked Tom to the door and out.

 

They made it to the lift before Tom let out a squawk and smacked him in the arm. 'I almost bit off my tongue in there!' she hissed at him, as they began the ride downward. 'A little warning!'

He grinned at her as he rubbed his arm. 'If I learnt anything from Duo, it's that no-one lets you do anything if you tell them exactly what it entails beforehand.'

'Oh, yes, please take after all of Duo's most frustrating qualities.' She smacked him again, now only half-heartedly. 'I think I'm glad most of that was over my head.'

'I'll tell you about it, later. There's time.' Now he hesitated. 'You heard I--'

'Staying,' she said. 'I heard.'

'And?' He ducked her fist, catching it as it passed. He tugged her close, and lowered his head to kiss her. Her fingers laced through his hair. She licked her lips when he let her go. The lift dinged as it deposited them on the ground floor.

'At least give me time to try,' he said. 'I'm not asking-- expecting you to marry me. I'm not asking for anything. Just a chance.'

Her little teeth made indents in her lip as she stared down at her feet. 'Is that really what you want? To stay here? It's not going to get any easier here.'

'I hope it will. I hope I can be part of making that happen. I think there is so much good spirit here, wanting it to be better.' He didn't have the eloquence to say it the way he wanted, the glimmer of it he saw possible. But with her hand in his, he felt anchored.

'But I'm going to be here,' he finished. 'So maybe-- it would be good if we could-- let me take you to breakfast. Do you work in the morning? Let me take you to dinner. Somewhere where you don't have to cook it. You can ask me anything under the sun.'

Her smile twitched wider. She covered it, her chin to her shoulder, her eyes slanting sideways up to his, clear and blue as the sky on Earth. 'You're asking me out?'

'I'm trying,' he pointed out. 'Are you agreeing?'

'Yes. No--' She straightened his tie, and leant her head on his chest. 'Tomorrow. I'm working in five hours. But... tomorrow.'

He pressed his lips to her hair. 'Good,' he whispered. 'I'll be here.'

 

**

 

I have an office. Well, Cloudwalker's office. But it's the first time I've ever had more than a desk and a nameplate. All the space is deafening. Tom thinks a few more lamps, a plant or two. I don't believe her quite yet, but for once I've been smart enough not to say so.

Official transfer of command was almost two weeks ago, but it's still uphill here. I'm crafting an outreach plan with Parliament, to introduce myself and Preventers to the colony. I want every citizen to know they can come to us. I want every citizen to know we serve them first.

It's not perfect yet. I think it's better than it was.

Cloudwalker tells me the new Council session began with a bang. Une announced her retirement the very first day-- met by barely concealed glee. None of them know yet that Quatre's name has already been handed up. Cloudwalker tells me he advised Quatre to wear either a vest or a cup, when it comes out. I think he ought to invest in both. But then, knowing Quatre as I've come to recently, I'm sure he has a few tricks up his sleeve. I'm sure it will be quite the show. I almost wish I could be there.

We have new sonograms. I'm attaching two for you. I don't know if I can actually, accurately predict how this must make you feel. I know that I wish I could have told you in person. I know that my most sincere wish is that some day will you join us here, to meet my child and show her everything you have shown me. Nothing would make me happier than for her to know you.

Enclosed as well is a package for Ledvina-- a sort of gift for the Bookies and for Diesel, too. I spoke to a local library and they've agreed to donate duplicates from their electronic library. There's a limited number of pads, for now at least, but it should be enough to flesh out your collection there. I threw in a few choice titles. Gupta and his lot will like the Horatio Hornblower. I even put one in for Mariemaia-- Virginia Woolf's _To The Lighthouse_. It's about the complexity of experience. I think it's something she would enjoy, if she forgives the imposition of my assumption. But I think you might enjoy the Joseph Conrad. It's a short story called 'The Secret Sharer'. You've been mine, after all, and like Leggatt you've kept your own secrets and in some sense your doing so has enabled me to grow without you, now that you're gone. I want to tell you I will do my best to make good of what you've given me. And I want you to know that I won't forget. You have my promise.

I hope you don't mind my letters. I never wrote to you before. It just feels different now. I suppose I'm not quite ready to just leave you there, after all. I think of you often. Always with fondness, and a deep appreciation for everything you have done for me. I hope I can begin repaying you even at this distance.

They are cleaning out the church. We are, rather, Preventers, and the congregation from St Mary's street. A memorial to two tragedies, bringing the bereaved together. Pastor Isaacs wants to get a good coat of sealant on the walls, and get new supports on the walls. There are plans to open a new shelter nearby. They're going to name it something inspirational, some kind of youth rescue, but informally I've heard some of them call it Maxwell House. I hope you'll be glad to know that, Duo.

'You're smiling,' she said.

Duo lowered the pages, folding them over each other carefully. 'Nothing,' he answered. 'Nothing important.' He left his perch on the arm of the couch, to stand over her little desk. 'Did you move finally?'

'Ten minutes ago.'

'You should've said.' He dropped into a crouch, contemplating the chess board. 'You could at least have told me I'm in check.'

'You were enjoying your letter.'

Duo glanced up. Mariemaia's gaze was as cool as ever, remote walls of glass. Her hands were clenched to fists in her lap, white-knuckled from the force of her grip.

He moved his rook to take the bishop threatening his king. 'Would you like to read it?' he asked casually.

'It is private correspondence.'

'Which I'm now offering to share with you.'

'Why?' she said coldly. 'What interest could I possibly have in what someone I barely know wrote to you?'

'Friends talk about what's going on in each other's lives.'

He'd shocked her. Her face went blank, just for a second, before she was in control again. 'We're not friends,' she told him frostily, cutting off each word so precisely her teeth clicked.

'No? Who else do you see every day, voluntarily? I sleep on your couch more often than my bunk.'

She slammed her hand on the edge of the desk, rattling the board and the pieces. Then she was whirling away from him, standing rigid, staring furiously at the wall. 'Our relationship has never extended to personal liberties. And you take far too much upon yourself. I'm the daughter of the greatest man to ever--'

'And I'm a no-body who eats with his fingers, yeah.' Duo shrugged at her back. 'Things're changing everywhere. Even here. If you think you can remember how it feels, maybe we could give it a shot.' He smoothed Wufei's letter against his knee, and let out the sudden laugh that bubbled up in him. 'You know,' he said, 'change is pretty exciting, when you think about it. An adventure, after a way. You remember what adventure feels like, Mariemaia?'

She stared at him as if he were mad. He probably was. But he wasn't the least bit scared.

'Come on,' he said. 'What do you really have to lose?'


End file.
